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LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


A. 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 

f) 


BY 

WILLIAM  M.  THAYER, 

AUTHOR  OF  “spots  IN  OUR  FEASTS  OF  CHARITY,”  “ MOUNING 
STAR,”  “pastor’s  WEDDING  GIFT,”  ETC. 


“God  setteth  the  solitary  in  families.”  — Psalm  Ixviii.  6. 

“ I WILL  BE  THE  GOD  OF  ALL  THE  FAMILIES  OP  ISRAEL,  AND  THEY  SHALL  BE  MY 
PEOPLE.”  — Jeremiah  xxxi.  1. 


BOSTON. 

CONGREGATIONAL  BOARD  OF  PUBLICATION. 

NO.  16  TREMONT  TEMPLE. 

1657. 


Er.toi'e^l  according  to  Act  of  Congreps.  in  the  year  ISoT,  by 
S E tv  A L L HARDING, 

In  the  Clerk's  OlHce  of  tlxe  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDGE : 


ALLEX  AXD  FAKXH.t.M,  SIEREOTTl'ERS  AND  PRINTERS. 


TO  THE 

FIVE  MILLION  FAMILIES 

IN  MY  NATIVE  LAND, 

THE  HOPE  OF  C H U K C H AND  ST  A T E , 

THIS  V0LU3IE 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED. 

W.  M.  T. 

A* 


(v) 


PREFACE. 


This  work  first  appeared  bearing  the  title,  “ Hints 
FOR  THE  Household.”  Two  editions  having  been 
exhausted,  it  was  thought  best  that  the  third  should 
appear  with  the  new  and  better  title.  Life  at  the 
Fireside. 

It  has  undergone  a thorough  revision,  and  been 
enlarged  by  the  addition  of  two  chapters. 

In  its  present  improved  and  enlarged  form,  it  is 
offered  to  the  public,  with  the  hope  that  it  may  prove 
a blessing  to  the  families  which  welcome  it. 


W.  M.  T. 


C 0 N T ENTS 


I. 

T n F.  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 

Its  ties  — home — Luther  — associations  of  home  — importance  of  the 
family  relation  — its  influence  upon  Alfred  the  Great,  Cecil,  Baxter, 
and  others  — relation  of  the  family  to  the  State  — policy  of  Greece  and 
Rome  — the  family  a State  in  miniature  — its  power  for  good  and  evil 
— good  citizens  made  in  the  family  — the  real  cause  of  pauperism  and 
crime  in  the  family — its  relations  make  men  patriotic  — the  Spartan 
lads.  The  relation  of  the  family  to  the  Church  — “ Church  in  the 
house  ” — revivals  should  begin  with  children  in  converting  the  world  — 
the  family  not  a dependant  — socialism — family  ties  fleeting  Page  I 


II. 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 

A life-union  — unhappy  alliances  — Socrates,  John  Wesley,  and  Milton — 
Solomon’s  description  of  a good  wife.  First  duty,  mutual  love — mar- 
rying for  beauty,  wealth,  or  a home,  inconsistent  with  it.  Mutual  con- 
fidence— deception,  secrecy,  and  jealousy  inconsistent  with  it.  Mutual 
forbearance.  Mutual  good  temper  — two  incidents.  Mutual  attention 
— spending  evenings  from  home.  Appreciation  of  each  other’s  trials. 
Mutual  industry  — wives  of  Collatinus  and  Augustus  Caesar.  Little 
things  bless  and  mar  married  life.  Religion  — language  of  the  Bible  to 
husbands  and  wives  — addresses  to  the  married  — the  faithless  husband 
and  wife  — soon  separated 24 


III. 

THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 

Eli,  Jacob,  David,  and  others  having  wicked  children  — does  God’s  prom- 
ise fail?  The  answer.  Connection  between  character  and  early  train- 

(ix) 


X 


CONTENTS. 


ing — unseen  causes  of  filial  defection  chargeable  to  parents  — Monica. 
Importance  of  parental  relation  — children  like  parents  — parents  in 
charge  of  souls — -scene  if  all  parents  should  correctly  train  children  — 
parents  reckless  of  responsibility  — some  train  only  for  the  professions, 
some  to  appear  well,  some  to  be  rich  — sad  consequences  of  bequeathed 
property  — Dr.  Duff’s  remark  — Henry  Clay’s  will.  First  impres- 
sions — the  three  sons  — Sir  Robert  Peel  — Linnaeus  — Bj-ron  and  Scott 
— will  children  reason?  — the  city  boy  — Dr.  Beattie’s  son  — is  a 
child’s  time  worthless?  Government  in  the  family  — governing  by 
hope  of  reward  and  fear  of  consequences — three  ways  to  spoil  chil- 
dren— love  and  severity  — the  Scripture  iliew  — the  government  of 
prayer  — parental  inconsistency  — deception  — p.arental  example  and 
precept  — Montaigne  — conclusion 52 


IV. 

THE  FILIAL  KELATIOX. 

Its  importance  in  the  light  of  the  Scriptures  — how  much  disregarded. 
Filial  inconsistencies  specified  — opposing  parents  — pertness  and  irrev- 
erence— use  of  the  phrases  “.old  man’’  and  “old  woman.”  Causes  of 
the  neglect  of  filial  duties  — not  appreciating  toils  of  parents  — erro- 
neous views  of  parental  discipline  — desire  to  be  independent  — Joseph, 
Napoleon,  and  Alexander  — regard  expressions  of  love  a weakness  — 
Wa-shington  — ashamed  of  unlettered  parents  — the  young  man  — 
Archbishop  Tillotson.  Filial  disobedience  the  seed  of  crime  — con- 
fession of  a murderer  — character  in  the  family  — devotion  to  parents’ 
promises  good  in  other  respects.  Filial  obedience  rewarded  — boy  in  the 
battle  of  the  Nile  — the  Chinese,  Greeks,  Turks,  -Eneas,  Metellus,  etc. 

— renders  the  last  days  of  parents  happy  — children  happy  in  the 
thought  of — Atticus.  Judgments  of  God  overtake  the  disobedient  — 

— Henry’s  and  Palmer’s  remark  — --Absalom  — address  to  disobedient 

son  — Christ’s  filial  example 01 


V. 

THE  FRATERNAL  RELATION. 

Scriptures  silent  upon  it  — harmony  between  brothers  and  sisters  de- 
lightful— -instances  of  alienation.  Causes  of  rupture  — unforgiving 
spirit  — unbridled  temper  — teasing  — envy  — property  inherited  — 
marriage  — religion.  Virtues  of  the  fraternal  relation — strong  attach- 
ment — mutual  politeness — confidence  — devotion  as  the  fiuit  of  love 
• — Joseph  as  a brother  — power  of  a brother’s  and  sister’s  influence  — 


CONTEXTS. 


XI 


address  to  children : and  the  little  girl  of  Jamaica  — address  to  youth, 
and  anecdote  of  Timoleon — address  to  adults,  and  case  of  Intaphemes’ 
wife  — Divine  blessing  upon  the  relation  when  happy  ....  112 


VI. 

TUE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 

Second  institution  ordained  in  Paradise — appellations  given  to  Sabbath 
— families  desecrate  it  — to  families  “ The  Pearl  of  Days.”  The  Sab- 
bath cultivates  domestic  aflection  — only  opportunity  many  have  to 
be  with  families.  The  Sabbath  presents  a favorable  opportunity  to 
parents  for  the  moral  instruction  of  children  — instruction  at  home  and 
in  Sabbath  school  — wise  division  of  time  for  this  object  is  one  day  in 
seven.  The  Sabbath  renders  the  family  relations  more  enduring  — its 
I'est  lengthens  life  — opinions  of  Dr.  Backus,  Dr.  Sewall,  and  Dr.  Farre. 
Influence  of  Sabbath  in  forming  youthful  character  — two  families  con- 
trasted— the  criminal  calendar  — the  young  man  from  home.  The 
Sabbath  promotes  household  piety  — where  there  is  no  Sabbath,  there 
is  no  family  piety  — consequences  if  Sabbath  abolished — the  aim  of 
infidels  — parental  example  — Quinton’s  description  of  a sanctified 
Sabbath  throughout  the  world 130 


VII. 

THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 

Eelation  of  the  Sabbath  and  Bible.  The  family  finds  its  sanction  in 
the  Bible  — where  there  is  no  Bible  there  are  no  true  homes  — there 
woman  is  degraded — socialism  the  finiit  of  rejecting  the  Bible  — 
Bible  in  heathen  families  renovates  them.  No  domestic  affection 
where  no  Bible — scenes  on  banks  of  Ganges  and  in  Sandwich  Islands 
— facts  among  the  Eomans.  Text-book  for  children  — it  has  attrac- 
tions — the  cavern  of  diamonds  — Bible  furnishes  best  scenes  for  art- 
ists — has  the  most  thrilling  history  — Scripture  stories  — Moses  in 
the  bulrushes  — Bible  characters  illustrating  every  virtue  — the  infidel 
and  the  Bible  — its  presence  adds  to  the  reputation  of  family  — inter- 
esting case.  A rich  treasure  in  seasons  of  trial  — death  scenes  in 
families  with  and  without  the  Bible  contrasted  — must  be  put  in 
every  famity  before  a world’s  salvation  is  secured  — quotation  from 
Pollok 152 


XU 


CONTEXTS. 


VIII. 

THE  FAMILY  A L T A K . 

The  Sabbath,  Bible,  and  Prayer,  a trinity  of  blessings  to  the  family 

— duty  of  family  praj-er  — power  of  prayer.  It  wins  the  confi- 
dence of  men  — they  think  better  of  such  a family  — they  ex- 
pect more  of  them.  Prayer  unites  families  by  stronger  bonds.  It 
makes  ineffaceable  impressions  upon  children  — the  Carthaginian 
leading  his  son  to  the  altar  — law  of  association  gives  power  to 
prayer  — impressions  of  the  Lord’s  Prayer  — liandolph  — Dr.  Scott  — 
makes  children  patriotic.  Its  influence  upon  the  Church  — the  most 
faithful  in  prayer  at  home  are  most  active  in  the  Church.  Family 
prayer  blessed  in  affliction  — the  testimony  of  a minister  — examples 
of  the  influence  of  family  prayer  — the  distinguished  merchant  — the 
Irish  wanderer  — the  son  of  a Xew  England  pastor.  God’s  blessing 
does  not  always  rest  on  families  observant  of  this  rite  — the  cause  is 
discrepancy  between  pra3-er  and  practice.  Family  praver  much  neg- 
lected — excuses;  want  of  time  — fear  of  man  — lack  of  learning  — 
addresses  to  the  professor  who  omits  family  praj-cr — to  the  non-profes- 
sor— to  the  unconverted  son  or  daughter  wont  to  hear  famih- pra^-er 

— reflections  of  praying  parents  when  sons  leave  home  — scene  when 

family  altar  is  reared  universally 173 


IX. 

FAMILY  A F F L I C T I 0 X S . 

Impressions  in  chamber  of  death  — uncertaint}-  of  life  — Heber,  Lucia, 
Anacreon,  etc.  — extent  of  death  in  families.  Mr'steries  of  Providence 

— Xaomi,  Jacob,  the  j'oung  man,  the  infant,  the  lost  steamer  — the 
deaf  and  dumb  pupil  — the  gospel’s  consolation.  “Jesus  wept”  — 
Christlike  to  weep  — Christ  s^mipathizes  with  bereaved.  “ The  Lord 
reigneth” — doctrine  of  Providence  precious  — sad  consequences  re- 
sult from  its  rejection  — Octavia,  Cicero  — Dr.  Beattie.  “lam  the 
resurrection  and  the  life  ” — resuiTection  and  annihilation  contrasted 

— the  gifted  young  man,  and  beautiful  infant — “thy  brother  shall 

live  again”  — dying  Christian.  “It  is  good  forme  that  I have  been 
afflicted”  — prosperity  less  beneficial  than  adversitj'  — affliction  binds 
hearts  together  — promotes  growth  in  grace  — saves  the  soul  — the 
light-house,  or  converted  widow  — Eastern  shepherd  and  lamb.  Con- 
solations of  worldly  philosophy'  — “common  lot”  — “ we  must  be  re- 
signed to  our  fate  ” — “ we  must  all  die.”  “ Thy  will  be  done  ” — dif- 
ficult lesson  — its  import  — the  scholar  — two  illustrations  — EUiot  and 
Cambray  — the  greater  the  trial  the  brighter  the  crown  ....  197 


CONTENTS. 


XUl 


X. 

FAMILY  READING. 

Books  are  companions  — reading  of  intelligent  families  no  small  item  in 
the  formation  of  character.  Novel  reading  — what  is  a novel  ? all 
fiction  not  novels  — some  novels  more  objectionable  than  others  — those 
of  moral  tone  least  popular  — vast  number  of  novels  published — opin- 
ions of  John  Foster,  Goldsmith,  Hannah  Jlore,  Wilberforce,  Coleridge, 
and  Pollok  — facts  — Alexander  — the  ruined  daughter  — the  rained 
son  — evil  of  novel  reading  not  appreciated.  Nature  of  novels  — the 
name  itself  — the  novel  makes  vice  attractive  — magnifies  wealth, 
pleasure,  fame,  etc. — some  ai'e  polluting — exaggerate  all  things  — 
learn  their  nature  from  the  character  of  those  who  read  them.  Influ- 
ence of  novels  upon  readers  — make  them  light  and  trifling  — create 
disrelish  for  useful  religious  reading  — Dr.  Hawes’  remark  — nullify 
pungent  preaching  — cultivates  false  sympathy  — philosophy  of  it  — 
waste  of  time  and  propert}' — world  supplied  with  good  books — a 
novel  like  the  Medusa — more  dangerous  to  young  because  character  is 
forming  — responsibility  of  pai-ents  in  this  matter 225 


XI. 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 

The  crisis  — the  present  moulds  the  future.  Characteristics  of  the  age 
— progress  is  the  watchword  — disorder  reigns  — confidence  in  political 
organizations  shaken  — reform  demanded  — temptations  numerous  — 
benevolence  invites  to  an  ample  field.  The  age  appeals  to  mothers  — 
men  needed  to  pull  down  and  build  up  — public  men  of  talent  and  re- 
ligious principle  needed  — citizens  of  large  benevolence  wanted  — also 
faithful  ministers  and  missionaries  — mothers  can  train  these.  Their 
encouragements  — permanency  of  early  impressions  — the  aged  sire  — 
the  mother’s  w'aming  — another  example  — facts  in  college  and  semi- 
nary — John  Adams’  remark  — Washington’s  mother  — Timothy.  Ad- 
dress to  mothers  — ^result  of  united  effort  — training  children  in  world- 
liness  — domestics  — indications  of  Providence 249 


XII. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHARACTER. 

Philosophy  universal  — little  studied,  especially  in  the  formation  of 
character  — character  made  by  law  — few  inquire  how  — value  of  char- 
B 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


acter — difference  between  character  and  reputation.  Law  of  associa- 
tion— examples  of  association  — aged  warrior  — scholar  on  classic 
ground  — Mark  Antony  — Christ  appealed  to  this  law  — its  force  in 
forming  character  — nursery  tales  — the  ancient  artist.  Law  of  imita- 
tion — little  originality  — child  imitates  virtues  and  vices  of  his  parents. 
Law  of  assimilation  — pervades  nature  — seen  in  worship  of  mankind 

— so  friend  assimilated  to  friend  — cause  of  much  ruin.  Law  of  habit 

— examples  — steal  upon  us  gradually  — how  these  laws  form  character 

of  the  libertine.  Law  of  hereditary  development  — illustrated  by  the 
cynic.  Law  of  conscience  — its  power  — obeying  it  increases  moral 
power  — two  characteristics  of  the  times  which  lead  to  a violation  of 
this  law  — here  reason  of  young  man’s  ruin — noble  to  abide  by  con- 
science. The  will — its  force  — then  forming  character  no  hap-hazard 
work  — the  soul  a harp  of  a thousand  strings 271 


XIII. 

BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAX. 

A perfect  model  — demand  of  the  age.  Living  for  a high  moral  purpose 
— many  young  men  aimless  — all  successful  men  had  definite  life-pur- 
pose— life  means  something — striving  to  be  best — just  views  of 
worldly  acquisitions  — doing  a doubtful  or  evil  work  for  higher  wages  — 
a case.  Consult  duty  — can  be  useful  in  any  calling  — young  men 
think  some  pursuits  give  honor  — personal  responsibility  — Franklin  — 
Dr.  King.  Benevolence  — life  of  Samuel  Budget!.  Filial  and  fraternal 
regard  — an  example  — illustration  by  Kev.  H.  Winslow  — thoughtless- 
ness brings  son'ow — a lease.  Principle  — a fact.  Experimental  relig- 
ion — a sure  guide  — Jefferson  College 301 


XIV. 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 

David’s  view  of  female  character — Monod  and  James  — female  influence 

— examples.  A fault  of  j'oung  women.  All  improvement  of  young 
women  should  be  preparation  for  duties  of  life  — female  education  too 
superficial — Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli  — intellectual  culture  — light  read- 
ing and  novels.  Modesty  — Joan  of  Arc  and  modern  female  declaimers 

— connection  with  purity.  Amiability  — gentleness.  Artless  simplic- 
ity — aim  at  display  — dress  and  manners  — vanity.  F ortitude  — much 
needed  — all  exposed  to  reverses  — words  of  a merchant  — a woman  of 
the  Revolution  — make  the  best  of  life’s  ills  — tlie  mother  of  Jesus. 
Thoughtfulness.  Conscientiousness  — what  is  it?  when  violated  — 


CONTENTS. 


XV 


sympathy  and  benevolence  — woman  fitted  for  this  mission — a fact. 
Usel'uhiess — Countess  of  Huntingdon.  Iieligion  — female  infidels  rare 
— Hume’s  words — -Gospel  elevates  woman — develops  her  graces  — 
corrects  her  defects  — the  German  artist 332 


XV. 

THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 

Gospel  reunites  broken  families  — the  “Father’s  House,’’  and  everlasting 
home.  The  whole  family  may  be  gathered  in  heaven,  known  and  loved 
by  each  other  — heaven  more  blissful  if  know  friends  there.  The  doc- 
trine is  the  universal  sentiment  of  mankind  — views  of  heathen,  In- 
dians, ancients  — Socrates  and  Cicero  — pagan  rites  — former  customs 
of  Church  — the  sentiment  pervades  poetry  — is  inscribed  on  tombstones 

— examples  — expressed  bj' the  d3dng.  Doctrine  proved  bj’ existence 
of  memory  hereafter  — mind  loses  no  acquisition- — Dr.  Cheever’s  re- 
mark. We  shall  not  know  less  in  heaven  than  on  earth.  The  social 
principle  — affections  must  have  objects  to  love  there.  Proof  from  the 
Bible — isolated  phrases  — Christ’s  allusions  — David’s  child  — the 
apostle’s  language  — Christ’s  words  to  jHartha  and  Jlaiy.  Opinions  of 
theologians  — Paley,  Dick,  Nevin,  Hall,  Baxter,  Doddridge,  Chalmers, 
Dwight,  Emmons  — one  objection  — receive  truths  with  less  evidence 

— the  Christian  family’s  home  above  — here  is  consolation  — a motive 

to  piety — concluding  address 375 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


I. 


THE  FAIVIH^Y  ON  EARTH. 


Home  is  the  resort 

Of  love,  of  joy,  of  peace,  and  plenty,  where, 

Supporting  and  supported,  polished  friends 
And  dear  relations  mingle  into  bliss. 

Thomson. 

With  secret  course  which  no  long  storms  annoy 
Glides  the  smooth  current  of  domestic  joy. 

Goldsmith. 


The  Family  on  earth ! Wliat  delightful  associa- 
tions are  awakened  by  the  mention  of  this  theme ! 
"With  what  speed  it  sends  the  thoughts  of  every 
reader  to  some  glad  retreat,  where  his  soul  is  bound 
by  ties  too  various  and  dear  to  be  designated  by 
other  appellation  than  that  of  Family ! What 
memories  linger  around  that  home-spot,  even  to 
those  whom  an  inscrutable  Providence  has  expelled 
from  its  domain ! What  emotions,  deep,  lasting,  and 
true,  start  into  being,  and  fly  along  the  heartstrings, 
as  the  subject  falls  upon  the  ear!  Father,  mother, 
brother,  sister,  son,  daughter, — what  hopes,  fears, 
1 (H 


2 


LIPE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


loves,  ties,  wait  upon  these  relations ! It  requires 
not  the  power  of  fancy  to  portray  these  intimate 
connections  in  colors  sufficiently  vivid  to  enlist  all 
the  feelings  of  the  heart.  For  them  nature  has  a 
strong  affinity,  and  needs  only  the  most  casual 
allusion  to  stir  the  fountain  of  her  emotions. 

Home ! The  term  is  one  of  the  choicest  in  the 
English  language,  and  is  mated  with  that  of  Family. 
It  is  where  the  family  is,  or  was.  The  mention  of 
one  suggests  the  other.  It  is  the  dearest  spot  of 
earth,  hallowed  by  a thousand  delightful  recollec- 
tions. 

In  all  ages  and  nations  mankind  have  expressed 
similar  sentiments,  and  indulged  kindi-ed  feelings  in 
relation  to  home.  However  stmted  in  the  measure 
of  earthly  goods,  it  has  ever  wielded  attractions  more 
powerful  than  those  of  lordly  “ pleasures  and  pal- 
aces.” A glad  response  has  been  wakened  in  every 
heart  to  the  beautiful  sentiment  of  the  poet,  — 

“ ’Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  tko’  we  may  roam, 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there ’s  no  place  like  home.”  * 

Luther  could  engage  in  battle-scenes  for  social  and 
religious  reform  with  dauntless  mien ; he  could 
oppose  the  fierce  anathema  of  Pope  and  Cardinals 
without  a trembling  nerve ; he  could  face  the  Diet 
of  Worms  with  the  corn-age  and  calmness  of  a 
Christian  hero;  but  when,  upon  a journey  to  meet 
the  Counts  of  Mansfield,  he  came  in  sight  of  his 
own  native  Eisleben,  the  great  man  was  overcome 


* Payne. 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 


3 


with  emotion,  and  he  bowed  his  head,  and  wept.  It 
was  an  unfeigned  recognition  of  the  power  of  home, 
or  family  attractions. 

The  power  of  the  family  tie  is  augmented  by  the 
influence  which  God  gives  to  every  member  of  it, 
and  to  every  object  connected  with  it.  Even  the 
little  infant  wields  a power  that  controls  the  plans 
and  efforts  of  an  entire  household.  We  are  wont 
to  look  upon  the  prattling  boy  or  girl  in  babyhood 
solely  as  an  object  of  attach orent,  — a beautiful  play- 
thing, — till  its  mind  demands  some  positive  culture 
for  immortality.  We  scarcely  think  that  from  its 
natal  day  it  is  swaying  our  hearts  and  directing  our 
efforts  with  greater  effect  than  the  laws  of  the  land. 
A little  reflection  wUl  sm-prise  us,  that  so  many  of 
our  purposes,  so  much  of  our  business,  so  many  of 
our  steps,  have  reference  to  it,  — that  such  a share  of 
om-  purest  sympathies  and  kindest  feelings  owe  their 
existence  to  the  child,  — and  that  it  so  materially 
affects  the  character  and  destiny  of  the  family. 

Every  object,  we  have  said,  connected  with  home, 
makes  more  or  less  impression  upon  the  heart. 
Home  may  be  the  place  of  our  birth.  How  vivid 
and  delightful  is  the  recollection  of  its  scenes ! 
Fresh  as  of  yesterday’s  occurrence,  they  still  draw 
our  hearts  back  to  the  homestead  where  the  united 
family  gathered  in  fond  and  unbroken  fellowship. 
The  mind’s  eye  rests  gladly  upon  the  shady  trees, 
and  the  meandering  stream  on  whose  verdant  banks 
we  plucked  the  mint  and  cowslip  ; and  we  seem  to 
see  the  merry  warblers,  the  robin,  thrush,  and  jay, 
flitting  from  branch  to  branch,  and  fiUing  the  air 
with  the  music  of  their  songs.  Fond  parents,  now 


4 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


possibly  in  the  grave,  we  behold  as  when  we  moved 
obedient  to  their  mandates,  and  their  voices  seem  to 
fall  upon  the  ear  with  the  same  tones  of  authority, 
and  their  eyes  beam  with  the  same  kindling  expres- 
sions of  love,  as  when  our  childhood  nestled  under 
the  wing  of  their  affection.  Even  the  sacred  hymns, 
that  we  were  wont  to  sing  in  happy  concert,  live  in 
bhssful  recollection,  and  the  antique  painting  and 
portrait  seemingly  hang  upon  the  parlor  wall  as 
when  we  used  to  gaze  upon  them  in  childish  delight. 
These  are  some  of  the  bright  mementos  of  child- 
hood’s home,  surviving  the  perishing  scenes  of  man- 
hood, which  we  shah,  carry  \\dth  us  to  the  goal  of 
hfe — the  grave. 

Most  of  human  life  is  spent  in  the  family.  Most 
of  human  duties  are  mediately  or  immediately  con- 
nected with  the  family.  This  renders  the  institution 
one  of  paramount  interest  and  importance.  Surely 
that  which  absorbs  so  much  of  hfe,  and  imposes  so 
many  of  our  duties,  has  a claim  upon  our  prayerful 
consideration. 

Too  often  the  family  is  regarded  only  as  a sort  of 
retreat  or  refuge  from  the  storms  of  life,  where  one 
may  dehght  in  the  exercise  of  the  natural  affections, 
independent  of  aU  influence  and  responsibihty  abroad. 
It  is  generally  supposed  that  a man  is  wdelding  an 
influence  vMch  affects  our  social  and  civil  interests, 
only  when  he  is  heartily  engaged  in  secular  and  pub- 
hc  affairs.  Few  stop  to  reflect,  that  within  the  quiet 
family  the  father-citizen  is  doing  more,  indirectly,  for 
the  weal  or  woe  of  society,  than  he  is  upon  the  arena 
of  pubhc  effort.  There  he  does  not  act  simply  upon 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 


5 


the  surface  of  things ; but  moulds,  and  even  creates 
the  essential  elements  which  are  to  enter  into  the 
social  structm'e  in  coming  time.  His  affections  may, 
indeed,  delight  in  the  home  circle  as  a quiet  retreat 
ffom  the  din  of  business,  and  a place  in  all  respects 
congenial;  but  then,  the  very  ties  that  make  it  a 
social  luxury  to  abide  in  the  family  increase  the 
force  of  every  word  and  act  upon  minds  and  hearts, 
which  are  to  constitute  eventually  the  hfe  and  soul 
of  society. 

Volumes  have  been  written,  and  discussions  have 
multiplied,  in  regard  to  the  form  of  civil  government 
best  adapted  to  the  wants  and  welfare  of  the 
human  race.  Systems  of  private  and  pubhc  educa- 
tion have  been  originated,  and  variously  applied. 
Theories,  both  in  respect  to  government  and  educa- 
tion, have  often  been  reduced  to  practice,  only  to 
prove  a failure,  because  men  disregard  the  impor- 
tance of  the  family  relation,  which  underlies  all  civil 
and  rehgious  institutions,  as  the  foundation  underlies 
the  fabric.  Reformers  have  even  become  so  wild  in 
their  speculations  about  a social  millennium,  as  to 
advocate  the  abolition  of  the  family  instead  of  its 
improvement.  The  wild  experiment  would  not 
reorganize  society,  but  shiver  its  organism  into  count- 
less fragments.  “ To  injure  the  family  by  bringing 
its  claims  into  doubt,  by  diminishing  its  purity,  or 
weakening  its  authority,  is  to  do  an  injury  to  society 
in  general.  Law,  order,  the  State,  intellectual  im- 
provement, morals,  every  thing,  would  fall  with  the 
family.  And  it  would  so,  because  the  family  is  of 
God ; and  nothing  which  is  of  God  can  be  shaken 
1* 


6 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


out  of  its  position,  or  be  lost,  without  causing  the 
most  disastrous  results.”  * 

In  nearly  all  examples  of  distinguished  men  in 
church  or  State,  the  influence  of  the  family  upon 
their  characters  in  early  Life  is  quite  apparent.  Trac- 
ing back  these  influences  to  their  origin  at  the  do- 
mestic altar,  we  are  constrained  to  attach  paramount 
importance  to  this  divine  institution.  It  is  said  that 
Alfred  the  Great  owed  his  intellectual  distinction 
and  true  greatness  to  a single  incident  in  the  family, 
when  he  was  about  twelve  years  of  age  — a parent’s 
offer  of  a manuscript  of  Saxon  poetry  to  any  one 
who  would  commit  it  to  memory.  The  excellent 
and  talented  Cecil  said : “ I detect  myself,  to  this 
day,  in  laying  down  maxims  in  my  family,  which  I 
took  up  at  three  or  four  years  of  age,  before  I could 
possibly  Imow  the  reason  of  them.”  The  reason  of 
Baxter’s  singular  devotion  to  the  work  in  which 
he  acquired  such  eminence  was,  that,  in  the  family, 
his  mind  was  early  directed  to  the  historical  por- 
tions of  the  Bible.  To  influences  within  the  fam- 
ily domain,  history  ascribes  much  that  is  great  and 
good  in  the  characters  of  Lord  Bacon,  Johnson, 
Edwards,  Newton,  Buchannan,  Dwight,  and  many 
others. 

As  are  families,  so  is  society.  This  proposition 
needs  no  extended  proof.  A community  or  State  is 
a collection  of  families,  possessing  such  a moral  and 
intellectual  character  as  the  famflies  possess.  K 
each  family  is  thoroughly  Christian,  the  community 
which  they  constitute  will  be  equally  Christian. 


* Upham. 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 


7 


Were  every  citizen  to  give  heed  to  his  personal  du- 
ties and  responsibilities,  and  faithfully  discharge 
them,  the  community  would  be  disturbed  by  no 
deeds  of  lawless  violence.  If  every  family  were  a 
model  in  purity  and  intelligence,  the  State  would  be 
a model  in  all  that  pertains  to  civil  pohty.  If  each 
member  of  a church  should  set  a watch  over  his  own 
heart,  and  see  to  it  that  one  heart  is  pure,  the  whole 
church  would  be  preserved  pure,  in  the  care  of  each 
for  himself.  So,  if  each  family  should  “ observe  to 
do  ” aU  that  the  Lord  has  commanded,  in  order  to 
promote  its  peace  and  prosperity,  aiming  to  present 
one  pure,  Christian  family,  the  Church  and  State 
would  be  full  of  “ whatsoever  is  lovely  and  of  good 
report.”  Hence  the  important  relation  which  the 
family  sustains  to  aU  other  institutions,  inferior 
only  to  the  church  of  God.  As  another  has  said, 
“it  antedates  and  underlies  ah  other  organisms,  is 
the  oldest  human  society,  the  mother  and  nurse  of 
the  church,  the  strong  foundation  on  which  rest  the 
State  and  civil  society,  and  the  teacher  and  model 
of  government.” 

Consider  more  particularly  the  relation  of  the  fam- 
ily to  the  State.  Says  John  Angell  James,  “ WeU- 
instructed,  weU-ordered,  and  well-governed  famihes 
are  the  springs,  which  from  their  retirements,  send 
forth  then-  tributary  streams  that  make  up,  by  their 
confluence,  the  majestic  flow  of  national  gi’eatness 
and  prosperity ; nor  can  any  State  be  prosperous,  where 
family  order  and  subordination  are  generally  neglect- 
ed ; nor  otherwise  than  prosperous,  whatever  be  its 
political  forms,  where  these  are  generally  maintained. 
It  is  certainly  under  the  wise  instruction  and  the  im- 


8 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


partial  sceptre  of  a father,  and  within  the  little  fam- 
ily circle  that  the  son  becomes  a good  citizen ; it  is 
by  the  fireside  and  upon  the  family  hearth,  that  loy- 
alty and  patriotism,  and  every  public  virtue  grows  ; 
as  it  is  in  disordered  families,  that  factious  dema- 
gogues, and  turbulent  rebels,  and  tyrannical  oppres- 
sors, are  tramed  up  to  be  their  neighbor’s  torment,  or 
their  country’s  scourge.  It  is  there  that  the  “ thorn 
and  the  brier,”  to  use  the  elegant  simile  of  the 
prophet,  or  the  “ myrtle  and  the  fir-tree  are  reared, 
which  are,  in  future  time,  to  be  the  ornament  and 
defence,  or  the  deformity  and  misery  of  the  land.” 
These  words  are  proved  truthful  by  reference  to  the 
present  condition  of  society,  as  well  as  to  the  records 
of  past  history.  Ancient  Greece  and  Rome  placed 
the  highest  renown  on  the  foram  and  the  battle  field, 
— in  the  career  of  the  senator  and  the  soldier.  It 
was  their  boast,  that  sons  were  nobly  trained  in  the 
family  for  the  service  of  their  country.  The  studi- 
ous were  encouraged  to  aspire  after  the  fame  of  the 
scholar  and  orator,  and  the  ardent  and  fearless  to  win 
laurels  that  adorn  the  warrior’s  brow.  Both  the 
Greek  and  Roman  entertained  false  notions  of  hu- 
man glory,  and  were  impelled  by  a wicked  ambition 
in  their  efforts  to  win  it ; but  the  fact  to  which  refer- 
ence is  had  shows  the  connection  of  the  family  with 
the  State.  Did  space  permit,  the  annals  of  Greece 
and  Rome  might  furnish  illusti'ious  examples  of 
statesmen  and  generals,  reared  in  the  quiet  family, 
with  special  reference  to  the  offices  which  they  after- 
wards filled  wdth  honor. 

The  family  is  a State  in  miniature,  of  which  the 
father  is  king.  It  contains  all  the  elements  of  ihe 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 


9 


body  politic,  developed  and  developing.  In  it  are 
the  future  agriculturists  and  artisans  who  will  wield 
the  utensds ; the  statesmen  and  rulers  who  will  hold 
the  destinies ; and  the  ministers  and  conservators  of 
truth  who  will  watch  the  altars  of  our  land.  In  it 
are  all  the  passions,  hopes,  and  feelings  that  ever 
moved  the  bosom  of  humanity  ; existing,  indeed,  in 
embryo,  but  fast  growing  into  vigorous  and  manly  ex- 
ercise for  a nation’s  weal  or  wo.  When  John  Adams 
was  engaged  in  the  instruction  of  youth,  in  Worces- 
ter, in  the  year  1756,  he  said,  “ that  it  awakened  in 
his  heart  peculiar  interest  to  regard  his  school  as  the 
world  in  miniature,  — that  before  him  were  the 
land’s  future  presidents,  governors,  legislators,  di- 
vines, and  counsellors.  He  had  only  to  imagine, 
what  might  prove  true,  that  this  one  was  a prospec- 
tive ruler,  and  that  one  a legislator,  and  the  other 
a minister,  in  order  to  stimulate  him  to  that  course 
of  effort  without  which  youth  for  those  respective 
spheres  would  be  lost.”  His  remarks  would  have 
been  equally  true  if  he  had  spoken  them  of  the 
family.  The  following  is  an  illustration  of  this 
truth.  In  the  year  1782  there  were  born  in  four 
famihes,  residing  in  three  difierent  States,  four  distin- 
guished American  statesmen,  namely,  Daniel  Web- 
ster, John  C.  Calhoun,  Lewis  Cass,  and  Martin  Van 
Buren.  Then,  those  families  were  undistinguished 
from  the  great  multitude  of  families  around  them. 
Yet,  as  we  now  regard  the  influence  which  those 
gifted  statesmen  have  exerted  in  the  council  halls 
of  the  nation,  we  learn  that  those  famihes  sustained 
a very  important  relation  to  our  government.  With- 
in them  were  prospective  legislators  and  statesmen, 


10 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


daily  receiving  impressions  to  fit  or  unfit  them  for 
the  important  trust  to  which  they  w^ere  uncon- 
sciously advancing.  Could  those  parents  have  been 
gifted  with  a prophet’s  ken,  to  discern  the  public 
career  of  those  whom  they  were  disciplining,  per- 
haps, with  too  careless  hand,  how  much  it  would 
have  deepened  their  sense  of  personal  responsibility ! 
They  would  have  had  a most  impressive  view  of 
their  connection  with  the  national  government. 
What  family  can  say,  positively,  that  its  responsi- 
bilities are  not  the  same  ? 

Not  less  important  is  the  relation  of  the  family  to 
the  State  in  respect  to  evil.  To  send  abroad  rm- 
principled  and  iiTesponsible  agents  to  trample  upon 
human  laws,  and  set  at  defiance  civil  authorities,  is 
a very  undesirable  responsibility  to  assume.  The 
eye  may  now  rest  upon  wretched  victims  of  vice  and 
crime,  whose  lives  are  a curse  to  the  dearest  interests 
of  society.  To  be  the  occasion  of  sending  one  such 
pest  into  society  may  well  attach  a fearful  obligation 
to  the  household  bond.  To  hazard  thus,  by  proxy, 
the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the  Commonwealth,  and 
corrupt  the  morals  of  communities  by  an  irresponsi- 
ble progeny,  is  an  issue  from  which  every  noble  and 
patriotic  parent  desires  to  be  delivered. 

The  stability  of  government  resides  in  the  ■virtue 
of  the  people.  A territory  stretching  from  sea  to 
sea ; a fertile  soil,  and  exhaustless  mines  of  gold  and 
silver,  do  not  make  a people  prosperous.  Proud  and 
populous  cities  ; wise  and  prudential  statutes ; mighty 
armies  and  navies  triumphing  on  land  and  ocean,  do 
not  insm-e  a permanent  government.  Nor,  even,  can 
education,  and  the  spirit  of  true  liberty,  alone,  sus- 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 


11 


tain  a nation,  and  transmit  its  institutions  unimpaired 
to  posterity.  This  is  done,  if  done  at  all,  by  the 
tried  virtue  of  the  people.  Good  citizens,  not  wealth, 
power,  or  political  organizations,  give  stability  to 
government.  Parties  may  organize ; education  and 
politics  combine,  and  every  possible  intellectual, 
political,  and  secular  agency  cooperate  for  the  suc- 
cess and  glory  of  a nation ; but  its  days  of  prosperity 
are  numbered,  if  there  be  not  a goodly  share  of  vir- 
tue in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  So  teach  reason 
and  observation.  So  speaks  the  past.  So  speaks 
the  present.  There  is  but  one  voice  and  one  expe- 
rience upon  this  subject.  History  declares,  in  the 
rise  and  progress,  the  decline  and  fall  of  govern- 
ments, that  their  stability  resides  in  the  virtue  of  the 
people. 

But  when,  where,  and  how  are  good  citizens  made  ? 
Are  they  made  after  the  character  is  formed  ? By 
no  means.  What  kind  of  citizens  men  shah,  be  is 
determined  before  they  attain  to  manhood.  While 
under  parental  discipline,  it  is  decided  whether  they 
\vill  be  loyal  or  not.  Here,  if  ever,  they  learn  that 
obedience,  and  cultivate  that  virtue,  which  are  the 
sure  promise  of  loyalty  to  the  State.  He  who  is 
disobedient  in  the  family  wall  be  likely  to  be  disobe- 
dient in  the  State.  If  he  has  no  respect  for  parental 
government,  he  will  have  none  for  civil  government. 
If  he  defies  a parent,  he  will  defy  a ruler.  In 
short,  the  discipline  which  is  required  to  make  him 
a good  son  is  necessary  to  make  him  a good  citizen. 
Early  in  life,  long  before  he  understands  the  nature 
of  his  duties  as  a member  of  society,  this  training 
of  his  heart  to  virtue  should  commence.  To  be  vir- 


12 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDB. 


tuous  in  manhood,  he  must  be  virtuous  in  youth. 
•K  his  early  life  is  corrupt,  there  is  very  little  hope 
that  his  later  life  will  be  pure.  Hence,  if  the  perma- 
nency of  a government  resides  in  the  virtue  of  the 
people,  and  if  the  people  are  virtuous  only  when 
their  early  discipline  is  correct,  then,  the  success  of  a 
nation  depends  upon  the  training  of  its  families. 

Much  has  been  written  concerning  the  causes  of 
crime  and  pauperism  in  our  land.  Foreign  immi- 
gration, intemperance,  judicial  leniency,  have  each 
been  branded  with  the  curse  of  creating  this  mass  of 
corruption  and  want.  But  these  are  only  secondary 
causes.  The  true,  original  cause  lies  back  of  them, 
I in  the  family.  The  great  masses  of  dehnquents 
crowding  our  almshouses,  reform  schools,  and  pen- 
^itentiaries,  are  furnished  by  undisciplined,  godless 
families,  or  very  defective  religious  ones.  They 
come  not  from  the  weU-trained  households  of  rural 
or  metropolitan  districts.  Hence  the  remarks  of  Dr. 
Payson : “ Could  we  trace  the  public  and  private 
evils  which  infest  our  otherwise  happy  country  back- 
ward to  their  source,  I doubt  not,  we  should  find  the 
most  of  them  proceed  from  a general  neglect  of  the 
education  of  children.  With  this  neglect  those  par- 
ents are  chargeable,  who  suffer  their  cliildren  to  in- 
dulge, without  restraint,  those  sinful  propensities,  to 
which  childhood  and  youth  are  but  too  subject. 
Among  the  practices  which  have  tiffs  dangerous  ten- 
dency are  a quarrelsome,  malicious  disposition,  dis- 
regard to  truth,  excessive  indulgence  of  their  appe- 
tites, neglect  of  the  Bible  and  religious  instruction, 
profanation  of  the  Sabbath,  impious  and  indecent 
language,  wilful  disobedience,  improper  associations. 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EAETH. 


13 


want  of  scrupulous  integrity,  and  idleness,  which  is 
the  parent  of  every  evil.”  True,  we  find  an  imme- 
diate cause  of  much  of  the  sin  and  degradation  we 
witness  in  the  drinking  and  gaming  saloons,  the  the- 
atres and  brothels,  where  the  vicious  congregate ; 
but  how  many  resort  to  these  dens  of  infamy  for  the 
want  of  that  early  training  which  is  so  needful  to 
lead  in  virtue’s  pathway ! Foreign  immigration 
pours  a host  of  paupers  and  criminals  upon  our 
shores,  poor,  wretched,  vicious  men  and  women,  to 
fill  our  almshouses  and  jails ; but  come  they  not 
from  lands  where  a well-trained,  Christian  family  is 
almost  unknown?  Were  they  not  born  and  bred  in 
the  midst  of  vice  and  crime,  and  disciplined  to 
quench  the  risings  of  every  noble  aspiration  ? Are 
they  not  now  the  members  of  households  in  which 
there  is  scarcely  any  recognition  of  the  duties  and 
responsibilities  of  the  family  relation  ? So  that, 
while  we  lament  the  evils  of  foreign  immigration, 
we  are  compelled  to  say  that  we  are  suffering  from 
such  an  immigration,  because  other  lands  are  the 
abodes  of  such  families.  After  granting  aU  the  ex- 
ceptions possible,  we  are  compelled  to  concede,  that 
the  true,  original  cause  of  pauperism  and  crime,  is 
found  in  the  family. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  strong  attachment  of  man- 
kind to  home.  This  makes  men  patriotic.  It  is  a 
golden  link  which  binds  their  hearts  to  their  native 
land,  when  traveUing  in  foreign  countries.  It  is  a 
note  of  alarm  when  the  pestilence  sweeps  along  the 
shores,  loved  ones  being  the  first  to  rise  before  the 
mind’s  eye.  So  when  the  tramp  of  invading  armies 
has  been  heard,  a thought  of  home  has  inspirited  the 

2 


14 


LITE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


volunteer,  or  the  enrolled  soldier,  more  than  the  loud 
battle-cry  “ to  arms  ! ” Dear  relatives,  whose  hopes 
and  happiness  depend  upon  the  issue  of  the  conflict, 
are  the  first  objects  that  rush  across  the  mind  when 
war  threatens  a land.  Wives,  children,  brothers, 
sisters,  parents,  — the  thought  of  their  being  exposed 
to  the  violence  and  lust  of  a victorious  foe  nerves 
soldiers  for  deeds  of  noble  daring,  and  invests  them 
with  fortitude  and  power  beyond  the  inspiration  of 
fife  and  drum,  or  the  glory  of  a conqueror’s  name. 
“ Remember  your  wives  and  children^'  exclaimed  a 
commander  to  his  army,  cowering  before  the  teem- 
ing ranks  of  the  enemy ; “ kehembee.  tohh  wi'S'ES 
AND  CHILDKEN ! ” With  the  celerity  of  fight,  the 
spirit  of  dauntless  heroism  flew  fi:om  heart  to  heart, 
and  the  army  rushed  to  the  conflict  wdth  renewed 
courage,  and  won  the  day. 

What  historian  has  recorded  the  instance  of  a 
person  without  a family  who  displayed  a marked 
degree  of  patriotism  in  the  time  of  our  country’s 
peril  ? We  have  had  many  noble  examples  of  the 
love  of  country ; but  how  much  less  noble  they  might 
have  been  without  a previous  love  of  the  family ! 
There  is  love  of  country,  doubtless,  in  numerous  in- 
stances, solely  because  there  is  love  of  home  with 
its  kindred. 

There  is  one  historical  fact  which  serves  to  illus- 
trate this  part  of  the  subject.  At  one  period  of 
Grecian  history,  family  discipline  was  accounted  of 
little  value,  and  the  Spartan  lads  were  submitted  to 
a public  training  as  the  children  of  the  people.  The 
education  of  the  household  was  set  aside,  or  nullified, 
and  the  lads  subjected  to  the  best  discipline  that 


THE  FAMILY  ON  BARTH. 


15 


could  be  instituted  to  fit  them  for  public  service. 
But  this,  with  many  other  plans  of  theirs,  equally 
chimerical,  proved  a failure,  showing  the  absolute 
necessity  of  the  family  influence  in  forming  char- 
acter to  be  useful  in  the  State,  or  any  other  sphere 
of  human  effort  and  responsibility. 

The  relation  of  the  family  to  the  church.  The 
domestic  constitution  appears  exceedingly  important, 
when  we  trace  its  influence  to  the  commonwealth ; 
but  it  transcends  this  view  of  mere  secular  and  po- 
litical interest,  and  assumes  a sacred  character,  when 
we  consider  its  relations  to  the  chm'ch  of  Christ. 
The  family  is  the  nursery  of  the  church.  Within 
its  pale  there  is  a training  by  which  the  rising  gener- 
ation are  made  friendly  or  hostile  to  the  truth, — 
are  the  more  hopeful  candidates  for  Christ’s  king- 
dom, or  the  less  likely  to  be  won.  The  next  gen- 
eration, both  of  the  friends  and  the  enemies  of  Christ, 
are  now  the  children  which  are  the  pride  and  hope 
of  earth’s  living  famihes.  Whether  they  shall  join- 
the  sacramental  hosts,  or  scorn  to  respect  the  truth 
of  God,  depends  very  much  upon  the  counsels  which 
mould  the  character  in  childhood  and  youth.  This 
sentiment  finds  a response  in  every  Christian  heart. 
In  every  community,  there  are  famihes  from  whom 
the  church  do  not  expect  to  receive  converts  to  their 
fellowship.  If  one  does  break  away  from  the  worldly 
interests  which  there  concern  him,  he  is  regarded  as 
having  resisted,  with  manly  independence,  such  in- 
fluences as  have  secularized  the  hearts  and  destroyed 
the  souls  of  thousands. 

Li  the  early  history  of  mankind,  the  family  was 


16 


LIFE  AT  THE  FERESEDE. 


the  only  church  of  God,  called  the  “ Church  in  the 
house.”  Here  was  the  altar,  the  incense,  the  voice 
of  prayer,  and  the  song  of  praise.  Here  was  all  the 
rehgion,  with  its  simple  ordinances,  which  was  found 
upon  the  earth.  And  over  this  constituted  “ Church 
in  the  house,”  the  man  of  God,  not  forgetful  of  his 
duties  as  husband  and  father,  presided  as  the  prophet 
and  priest.  Had  not  sin  coiTupted  the  source  of 
human  thought  and  feeling,  an  organized  Cliristian 
church  would  have  been  unnecessary.  Each  family 
would  have  been  a living  church,  as  a city  upon  a 
hill.  There  God  would  have  had  his  altar,  his  or- 
dinances, and  his  “ beloved.”  There  truth  would 
have  lived,  unchanged  and  unremoved  by  the  march 
of  time.  And  there  piety  would  have  survived,  in 
the  pmity  of  its  early  faith,  amid  all  the  mutations  of 
terrestrial  things. 

Facts  may  be  cited,  almost  indefinitely,  to  estab- 
lish the  connection  of  the  family  and  church.  Li 
one  town  during  a revival  of  religion,  in  1812, 
seventy-nine  persons  were  added  to  the  church,  and 
all  but  four  were  the  members  of  pious  famifies. 
In  another  town,  as  the  fruits  of  a revival  in  1811, 
one  hundred  were  added  to  the  church,  eighty-eight 
of  whom  were  from  pious  famifies.  In  yet  another 
town,  four  fifths  of  the  converts,  during  a revival  in 
1815,  belonged  to  religious  households.  In  another 
still,  nine  tenths  of  aU  the  conversions  during  a power- 
ful work  of  grace  in  1831,  were  connected  vith  pious 
families.  And  thus  in  nearly  every  revival  which 
refi-eshes  Christendom  Irom  time  to  time,  it  wifi  be 
found  that  very  few  are  gathered  from  famifies  in 


THE  PAJIILY  ON  BARTH. 


17 


which  the  parents  are  not  religious.  The  great  mass 
of  the  additions  to  Christ’s  flock  are  from  the  fam- 
ilies of  the  church. 

Revivals  occurred  in  Amherst  College  in  1827,  ’28, 
’31,  ’35,  ’39,  ’42,  ’46,  in  which  some  hundreds  were 
converted,  and  in  Wabash  College  in  1838,  ’41,  ’43, 
’46,  ’47,  ’48,  and  ’49,  with  results  equally  encourag- 
ing. The  forty  years  preceding  1848,  Yale  College 
was  visited  with  twenty  revivals,  and  the  number 
of  hopeful  conversions . in  a single  one  was  one  hun- 
dred. Among  the  converts  were  Hopkins,  Edwards, 
Dwight,  Bellamy,  Evarts,  Cornelius,  and  Nevins. 
The  first  sixty-five  years  in  the  history  of  Dartmouth 
College  witnessed  nine  extensive  revivals ; and  dur- 
ing the  first  twenty-five  of  Middlebury  College, 
every  class  but  one  shared  in  the  outpouring  of  the 
Spirit.  How  many  hundreds  were  converted  in  all 
these  revivals,  we  cannot  say ; but  we  can  assert 
with  confidence,  that  four  fifths  of  them  were  the 
children  of  the  church.  It  is  recorded  that  of  sixty- 
three  admitted  to  the  church  in  Yale  College,  in 
1802,  all  but  eight  of  them  were  the  sons  of  pious 
parents.  The  whole  number,  (twenty-two,)  who 
were  received  to  the  communion  in  1808,  had  either  a 
Christian  father  or  mother,  or  both.  And  of  seventy 
who  professed  religion,  as  the  fruit  of  the  revival  of 
1831,  all  but  ten  were  the  children  of  pious  parents. 
Thirty  students  were  hopefully  converted  in  McKen- 
dree  College,  Illinois,  in  1850,  all  but  three  of  whom 
had  praying  mothers,  and  a large  portion  of  them 
praying  fathers,  also.  Six  of  them  were  the  sons  of 
ministers  of  different  denominations. 

An  inquiry  was  instituted  not  long  since  with 
2* 


18 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


regard  to  the  eighty  students  connected  with  the 
Andover  Theological  Seminary;  and  it  was  found 
that  only  “ four  of  the  students  were  born  of  parents 
neither  of  whom  was  pious  ; that  of  six,  the  mother 
only  was  pious ; and  that  of  seventy,  the  father  and 
mother  both  were  pious.”  In  another  Theological 
Seminary,  all  but  six  of  the  members  were  reared  in 
religious  families.  A similar  inquiry  instituted  in 
regard  to  all  the  Theological  Schools  of  the  land, 
of  evangelical  principles,  would,  doubtless,  present 
similar  results. 

Of  the  large  number  of  devoted  ministers,  break- 
ing the  bread  of  life  to  the  many  saints  in  Christen- 
dom, and  the  missionaries  of  the  cross,  bearing  the 
glad  news  of  salvation  to  the  perishing,  how  very 
few  are  the  offspring  of  parents  neither  of  whom  are 
devoted  to  the  Lord!  Probably  ninety-nine  hun- 
dreths  of  them  came  forth  from  households  where 
one  parental  heart,  at  least,  was  in  true  sympathy 
with  Christ. 

Such  facts  as  these  show  that  God  has  put  his 
seal  of  approbation  upon  the  religious  family,  and 
now  points  us  to  it  as  the  agency,  winch,  by  grace, 
is  to  replenish  his  blood-bought  church.  Other  fam- 
ilies throng,  with  their  godless  numbers,  the  ranks  of 
Christ’s  enemies  and  persecutors,  and  swell  the  num- 
ber of  the  “ tormented  ” to  a fearful  aggregate.  But 
the  families  of  the  church,  dear  to  God  by  the  bonds 
of  the  everlasting  covenant,  are  to  furnish  the  mass 
of  the  trained  sons  and  daughters  of  salvation ; so 
that  the  question : how  fast  the  truth  shall  advance 
from  land  to  land,  and  how  soon  the  cross  be  planted 
upon  every  heathen  shore,  finds  its  truest  answer 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 


19 


in  the  character  of  the  families  which  abide  in  Chris- 
tian countries. 

Some  months  since,  the  author  listened  to  the  in- 
teresting plea  of  an  agent  in  behalf  of  perishing  chil- 
dren, in  which  he  argued  that  our  efforts  in  the  con- 
version of  the  world  have  been  wrongly  directed. 
The  drift  of  his  argument  was  somewhat  as  follows : 
We  have  been  laboring  in  the  Lord’s  vineyard  a great 
number  of  years,  yet  how  few,  comparatively,  are 
converted ! In  many  Christian  communities,  the  ad- 
mission of  converted  sinners  to  the  church  scarcely 
keeps  pace  with  the  removals  by  “ death’s  doings.” 
Talents,  learning,  wealth,  time,  all  are  devoted  to  the 
salvation  of  men,  yet  how  slowly  does  the  work  of 
conversion  advance ! At  this  rate  of  progress,  how 
long  a time  wdl  elapse  before  the  world  will  be  con- 
verted to  God ! There  is  error  somewhere  in  this 
great  and  glorious  enterprise.  We  believe  it  lies  in 
overlooking  the  salvation  of  children.'  We  have 
commenced  at  the  wrong  place  to  convert  the  world. 
This  great  moral  machinery  is  operating  mainly 
upon  adult  minds,  while  childhood  is  almost  wholly 
neglected.  Men  established  in  then  sinful  habits, 
with  a cultivated  hostility  to  the  gospel,  or  blinded 
by  gross  superstition,  are  labored  with,  while  children, 
so  susceptible  to  religious  impression,  are  left  to 
harden  by  sin,  and  advance  to  maturity  with  in- 
creasing enmity  to  the  truth,  before  they  are  made 
the  special  objects  of  Christian  regard.  In  this  way, 
the  young  pass  the  season  which  is  most  favorable 
to  bring  them  to  Christ,  and  are  not  wrought  upon 
by  the  church  untU  they  are  far  less  likely  to  be  con- 
verted. May  not  the  error  be  found  here  ? Is  it  not 


20 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


the  part  of  wisdom  to  convert  the  children,  that,  by 
and  by,  there  may  be  no  adults,  comparatively,  to  be 
converted  ? While  adults  may  not  be  neglected 
now,  ought  not  our  Christian  efforts  to  be  directed 
more  and  mainly  to  the  salvation  of  the  young  ? 

The  sentiment  met  with  a response  in  my  heart, 
as  it  doubtless  wiU  in  the  heart  of  every  Christian. 
It  is  philosophical  and  true  to  the  claims  of  human 
nature.  Take  care  of  the  children,  and  adults  will 
take  care  of  themselves.  " It  exhibits,  in  the  most 
comprehensive  view,  the  importance  of  the  relation 
which  the  family  sustains  to  the  militant  church  of 
God. 

One  characteristic  of  the  family  on  earth,  which 
might  have  been  cited  before,  deserves  here  a passing 
notice,  by  way  of  magnifying  the  importance  of 
what  has  already  been  urged.  It  is  not  a dependant. 
Neither  government  nor  possessions  give  it  laws  or 
existence.  “ It  may  live  and  flourish,”  says  John 
Angell  James,  “in  all  its  tender  charities,  and  all  its 
sweet  felicities,  and  its  moral  power,  in  the  cottage 
as  well  as  in  the  mansion  ; mider  the  shadow  of 
liberty,  and  even  under  the  scorching  heat  of  tyranny. 
Like  the  church,  of  which  it  is  in  some  respects  the  em- 
blem, it  accommodates  itself  to  every  changing  form 
of  surrounding  society,  to  every  nation  and  to  every 
age,  forming  with  the  church,  the  only  institu- 
tions ever  set  up  by  God,  as  to  their  framework. 
Like  its  kindred  institute,  it  remains  amidst  the  ruins 
of  the  fall,  the  lapse  of  ages,  and  the  changes  of 
human  affairs,  the  monument  of  what  has  been,  the 
standing  prediction  of  what  shall  be.  Tpauts,  that 
crush  the  liberties  of  a State,  cannot  destroy  the  con- 


THE  FAMILY  ON  BAKTH. 


21 


stitution  of  the  family ; and  even  persecutors,  that 
silence  the  preacher,  and  scatter  the  congregation, 
cannot  hush  the  voice  of  parental  instruction,  or 
extinguish  parental  influence.  Religion,  hunted  and 
di'iven  from  the  place  of  public  concourse,  would 
stfll  find  a retreat,  as  it  often  has  done  under  such 
cu'cumstances,  in  the  household  of  faith  ; and  t/iere 
would  keep  alive  upon  the  family  altar,  that  holy 
fire,  with  which  the  sacrifice  of  the  temple,  under 
happier  auspices,  shall  be  offered.  Neither  families 
nor  the  church  of  the  redeemed  shall  ever  be  enthrely 
lost,  whatever  changes  the  world  may  yet  have  to 
pass  through  ; ‘ but,  blessing  and  being  blest,  will,  of 
themselves  alone,  one  day  introduce  the  millen- 
nium.’ ” 

If  a correct  view  of  the  family  on  earth  has  been 
presented,  the  duties  which  are  incidental  to  this 
institution  deserve  to  be  carefully  studied.  They 
cannot  be  esteemed  too  sacred  or  imperative.  They 
cannot  be  revolved  too  long,  or  too  prayerfully. 
They  cannot  be  discharged  with  too  much  concern 
or  fidelity.  To  neglect  or  trifle  with  them  does  not 
issue  simply  in  personal  detriment,  but  in  disaster  to 
State  and  church.  In  the  following  chapters  these 
duties  are  discussed  as  they  naturally  issue  from 
remarks  abeady  made.  The  sentiments  of  this 
chapter  are  considered  a sufficient  basis  for  aU  that 
follows. 

If  the  truth  is  contained  in  the  foregoing  para- 
graphs, Socialism  is  a great  sin.  It  abolishes  the 
family  to  group  the  sexes  together  in  large  commu- 
nities. Under  the  pretence  of  refoiyn  or  social  im- 
provement, it  annihilates  the  family  tie,  and  thus 


22 


LIPE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


mines  away  at  the  very  foundation  of  the  social 
organization.  It  destroys  the  germ  of  the  State  and 
the  nursery  of  the  church.  It  blasts  the  brightest 
hopes  of  the  nation.  It  denies  the  material  of  which 
to  construct  a prosperous  commonwealth.  It  “ nips 
in  the  bud  ” the  expanding  affections  of  the  soul.  It 
quenches  the  flow  of  the  heart’s  sweet  charities.  It 
removes  one  of  the  most  powerful  motives  to  toil 
and  industry.  It  tempts  the  lusts  of  depraved 
human  nature,  and  provokes  the  passions  to  wanton 
exercise.  Socialism  is  thus  the  plotting  antagonist 
of  a pm’e  and  peaceful  society,  and  its  adherents  are 
the  enemies  of  mankind. 

There  is  a delightful  inheritance  in  the  bonds  of 
an  unbroken  family  on  earth.  Before  the  dire  hand 
of  misfortune  or  necessity  has  scattered  abroad  the 
members,  or  the  scythe  of  the  fell  destroyer  cut  them 
down  as  the  grass,  when  the  reciprocal  flow  of  love 
causes  hearts,  — 

“ Like  kindred  drops  to  mingle  into  one,” 

and,  especially,  when  the  spirit  of  true  religion  per- 
vades and  regulates  the  entire  fellowship,  the  family 
ON  EARTH  presents  a scene  of  the  purest  social  enjoy- 
ment this  side  the  whole  family  in  heaven.  But 
how  frail  the  tie  that  “ makes  the  members  one ! ” 
How  weak  the  “ earthen  vessel  ” which  contains 
such  joys  ! How  soon  this  cup  of  joy  is  dashed  in 
fragments  at  our  feet! 

“ Heaven  has  confirmed  the  dread  decree. 

That  Adam’s  race  must  die ; 

One  general  ruin  sweeps  them  down, 

And  low  in  dust  they  lie.” 


THE  FAMILY  ON  EARTH. 


23 


A few  fleeting  months  and  years  pass,  and  how 
changed ! Yea,  in  the  very  morning  of  the  blissful 
union,  sudden  as  the  lightning’s  flash,  death  lays  his 
finger  upon  one  warm  heart,  and  it  is  motionless  as 
marble.  A vacancy  occurs,  and  the  household  is 
wrapped  in  gloom ! The  destroyer  only  lifts  his 
wand,  and  the  bright  vision  of  delight  vanishes  as 
“ a thing  of  air ! ” In  a moment  the  earthly  Eden 
is  overshadowed  with  a cloud  of  sorrow,  and  a 
period  is  put  to  unbroken  fellowship,  till  grace  re- 
unites the  severed  family  in  the  Paradise  above, 
where  necessity  dissolves  no  union,  and  death  trifles 
not  with  a tie. 


“We  are  all  here, 

You  that  I love  with  love  so  dear. 
This  may  not  long  of  us  be  said  — 
Soon  must  we  join  the  gathered  dead, 
And  by  the  hearth  we  now  sit  round, 
Some  other  circle  wall  be  found. 

Oh,  then,  that  wisdom  may  we  know. 
Which  yields  a life  of  peace  below ; 
So,  in  the  world  to  follow  this. 

May  each  repeat,  in  words  of  bliss, 

W e ’re  all  — all  here  ! ” 


II. 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


Nor  stranger  seemed  that  hearts 
So  gentle,  so  employed,  should  cleave  in  love, 

Than  when  two  dew-drops  on  the  petal  shake 
To  the  same  sweet  air,  and  tremble  deeper  down. 

And  slip  at  once,  all  fragrant  into  one. 

Texxyson. 

Then  come  the  wild  weather — come  sleet  or  come  snow. 

We  win  stand  by  each  other,  however  it  blow; 

Oppression  and  sickness,  and  sorrow  and  pain. 

Shall  be  to  our  true  love  as  links  to  the  chain. 

Longfellow. 


A JOYOUS  company  assemble  in  the  lighted  par- 
lor, and  none  are  more  elated  with  hope  than  he 
who  is  about  to  take,  and  she  who  is  about  to  be- 
come, a bride.  Important  era  in  the  life  of  the 
youthful  pair ! "What  years  of  joy  or  sorrow,  what 
chapters  of  hope  or  despair,  what  unfolding  des- 
tinies are  hung  upon  the  utterance  of  these  brief 
■words ! — You  have  now  presented  yourselves,  as 
the  partners  of  each  other’s  decided  choice,  to  have 
sealed  your  marriage  vow.  In  the  presence  of  Al- 
mighty God,  and  these  witnesses,  you  promise  to 
receive  each  other  in  the  mutual  relation  of  Husband 
and  Wife,  — to  love,  cherish,  and  respect  each  other 

(24) 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


25 


in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  your  earthly  toil,  — in  sick- 
ness and  in  health,  in  prosperity  and  in  adversity  the 
same,  — rejoicing  with  each  other  in  joy,  and  sym- 
pathizing with  each  other  in  sorrow,  — thus  remem- 
bering your  plighted  vow  till  these  bands  are  sun- 
dered by  death. 

Tin  these  bands  are  sundered  by  death ! In  five 
minutes  is  consummated  a union  for  a lifetime  of 
weal  or  woe!  None  but  God  himself  can  sunder 
the  tie  thus  suddenly  created!  Even  though  the 
union  be  blasted  by  the  blight  of  misery,  and  riv- 
ing discord  tear  the  heartsti’ings,  it  is  done  for  life. 

Well  may  brides  and  bridegrooms  ponder  the 
fact ! They  make  a choice  that  compasses  the  whole 
of  their  earthly  career,  and  unites  their  destinies,  if 
not  then-  hearts.  Darkness  may  cover  their  pathway 
as  a murky  cloud ; but  they  must  travel  on  together 
amid  the  uncertainties  of  the  future.  For  they  have 
stood  in  solemn  attitude  before  the  Searcher  of 
hearts,  and  made  the  irrevocable  pledge  to  be  one. 
Reflect  upon  the  reality,  wedded  pair.  Open  yom' 
ears  to  the  voices  that  will  echo  from  every  scene  of 
domestic  experience,  coming  up,  loud  and  clear,  from 
the  depths  of  anguish  in  the  soul,  and  bursting  out 
from  every  brilliant  avenue  of  joy,  and  pealing  like 
a trumpet  along  the  outstretching  paths  of  wedlock, 
— /or  life  ! Listen  to  the  stirring  truth,  embracing 
aU  that  you  have,  and  are,  and  hope  for,  in  this 
earthly  lot,  until  you  catch  the  meaning,  and  your 
hearts  awaken  to  the  appeal,  — for  life ! 

Often  men  are  inconsiderate  in  assuming  the  du- 
ties of  this  state.  In  consequence,  many  who  marry 
for  an  earthly  paradise,  awake,  when  the  dreams  of 
3 


26 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


the  “ honey-moon  ” are  over,  to  find  themselves  in  an 
earthly  purgatory.  They  “ marry  in  haste  and  re- 
pent at  leisure.”  Says  Foster,  “ Alas ! many  an 
enamored  pair  have  courted  in  poetry,  and  after 
marriage;  lived  in  proseP  Nor  is  this  true  alone  of 
the  young  and  inexperienced,  — the  tlirong  of  brain- 
less upstarts  and  dandies  that  infest  society,  — but 
also  of  many  of  the  learned  and  wiser  ones.  If  not 
really  inconsiderate,  they  have,  nevertheless,  taken  to 
themselves  companions  unsuited  to  their  w'ants  and 
ways.  Socrates,  the  famed  plulosopher  of  ancient 
Athens,  was  thus  unfortunate  in  his  wife,  Xantippe. 
In  all  his  toils  she  tormented  Ifim  by  her  imperti- 
nence, her  peevish  disposition,  and  harsh  invectives. 
All  have  doubtless  read  of  that  amusing  incident  in 
his  life,  when  his  wtife,  after  pelting  him  wdth  a hail- 
storm of  invective,  poured  a pailful  of  filthy  water 
upon  his  head,  to  W'hich  the  amiable  sage  cooUy  re- 
plied, “ after  thunder  rain  generally  fallsP  John 
Wesley,  the  eloquent  and  gifted  preacher,  was  wed- 
ded to  a woman  who  proved  herself  a perpetual  tor- 
ment to  him  in  his  sacred  calling.  Goaded  by  her 
cruel  jealousy,  and  her  yet  more  cruel  temper,  she 
beset  him  at  every  point,  and  foUowmd  him  even 
with  a persecuting  spirit,  until  he  was  compelled  to 
leave  her  to  her  sin  and  foUy.  Milton,  the  great 
English  poet,  had  not  lived  long  wdth  his  wdfe  before 
a difference  arose,  wFich  ended  in  separation,  though 
she  afterwards  returned  and  -begged  pardon  on 
her  knees.  It  is  supposed  that  this  contributed 
materially  to  his  writing  that  pathetic  scene,  in  Par- 
adise Lost,  in  W'hich  Eve  addresses  Adam  for  par- 
don and  peace. 


THE  CONJUGAL  EELATION. 


27 


But  we  need  not  pass  the  precincts  of  our  own 
neighborhood  to  become  familiar  with  the  numer- 
ous “ jars  ” in  families,  consequent  upon  hasty  alli- 
ances. The  scold,  the  fret,  the  drone,,  the  torment, 
the  tyrant,  are  epithets  that  express  the  reigning  dis- 
cords in  families.  There  is  “ the  old  man’s  pet,”  and 
“ the  young  man’s  slave.”  There  is  “ the  lazy  man’s 
drudge,”  and  “ the  proud  man’s  doU.”  There  is  the 
“worn  woman’s  master,”  and  the  “jaded  man’s 
thorn.”  There  is  discord,  war,  and  bondage  in  the 
marriage  state.  Many  a wife  has  driven  her  husband 
to  the  practice  of  dishonesty  and  fraud,  to  the  saloon 
of  the  gambler  and  the  doom  of  the  drunkard,  by 
her  pride,  extravagance,  idleness,  fretfulness,  or  all. 
And  many  a husband  has  crushed  the  gentle  spnit 
of  his  wife,  and  sent  her  down,  heart-broken  and 
sad,  to  an  early  grave,  by  the  neglect  and  cruelty  of 
his  faithless  heart. 

How  sad  the  perpetual  union  of  a pair,  between 
whose  hearts  there  are  no  blest  affinities  ! With  no 
delight  in  each  other’s  society,  yet  compelled  to 
abide  as  one  ! Mutual  enmity,  perhaps,  ranlding 
and  burning  in  their  hearts,  and  yet  tied  together 
for  life ! It  was  the  custom  of  a certain  Emperor 
of  Tuscany  to  punish  offenders  by  binding  the  liv- 
ing criminal  to  the  body  of  a dead  malefactor,  face 
to  face ; and  the  wretched  culprit  bore  about  the 
loathsome  and  dissolving  carcass,  until  he  died  in  its 
foul  embrace.  Fit  symbol  of  the  way  God  often 
punishes  the  offender  in  the  marriage  life,  binding 
him  to  a companion  from  whom  his  heart  has  be- 
come strangely  alienated,  even  to  dreadful  loathing, 
yet  compelled  to  submit  to  the  union,  and  bear 


28 


LITE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


about  with  him  the  hated  one  until  released  by 
death.  No  severer  punishment  could  be  inflicted 
upon  man  or  woman  for  an  inconsiderate  alliance. 
There  is  meaning  in  the  old  proverb,  “ better  be  half- 
hanged  than  ill-wed.” 

It  is  wise,  then,  “ to  weigh  well  what  we  can  only 
once  decide,”  — to  ponder  the  duties  that  are  in- 
volved in  the  conjugal  relation.  The  sentiment 
has  become  proverbial,  — “ he  who  is  about  to  marry 
should  consider  how  it  goes  with  his  neighbors.” 
From  the  results  of  this  sacred  connection,  witnessed 
on  every  hand,  much  may  be  learned  concerning  the 
duties  of  husband  and  w^ife. 

Solomon  the  wise  has  given  us  the  beau  ideal  of 
a wife.  Why  he  has  given  less  prominence  to  the 
husband,  in  this  regard,  may  be  a query.  Perhaps 
the  reason  lies  in  the  fact,  that  the  former  contributes 
more  to  the  joys  or  sorrows  of  domestic  life.  How 
frequently  are  the  misfortunes  or  success  of  men 
ascribed  to  their  wives ! The  prosperous  man  has 
an  economical  and  industrious  wife  ; while  the  w*ife 
of  the  unfortunate  one  is  an  extravagant  and  faith- 
less woman.  Henee,  the  Irish  saying,  “ a man  must 
aslt  his  wife’s  leave  to  be  rich.” 

The  following  is  Solomon’s  description  oT'a  model 
wife,  and  which  good  Matthew  Henry  calls,  “ A look- 
ING-GLASS  FOR  LADIES.”  “ Who  can  find  a virtuous 
woman?  for  her  price  is  far  above  rubies.  The 
heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in  her,  so  that 
he  shall  have  no  need  of  spoil.  She  will  do  him 
good,  and  not  evil,  aU  the  days  of.  her  life.  She 
seeketh  wool  and  flax,  and  w^orketh  wiUingly  with 
her  hands.  She  is  like  the  merchants’  ships ; she 


THE  CONJUGAL  EELATION. 


29 


bringeth  her  food  from  afar.  She  riseth,  also,  while 
it  is  yet  night,  and  giveth  meat  to  her  household,  and 
a portion  to  her  maidens.  She  considereth  a field  and 
buyeth  it,  with  the  fruit  of  her  hands  she  planteth  a 
vineyard.  She  girdeth  her  loins  with  strength,  and 
strengtheneth  her  arms.  She  perceiveth  that  her 
merchandise  is  good ; her  candle  goeth  not  out  by 
night.  She  layeth  her  hand  to  the  spindle,  and  her 
hands  hold  the  distaff.  She  stretcheth  out  her 
hands  to  the  poor ; yea,  she  reacheth  forth  her  hands 
to  the  needy.  She  is  not  afraid  of  the  snow  for  her 
household ; for  aU  her  household  are  clothed  with 
scarlet.  She  maketh  herself  covering  of  tapestry ; 
her  clothing  is  silk  and  purple.  Her  husband  is 
known  in  the  gates,  when  he  sittefh  among  the 
elders  of  the  land.  She  maketh  fine  linen,  and  sell- 
eth  it ; and  delivereth  girdles  unto  the  merchants. 
Strength  and  honor  are  her  clothing,  and  she  shall 
rejoice  in  time  to  come.  She  openeth  her  mouth  in 
wisdom ; and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness. 
She  looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  and 
eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness.  Her  children  arise 
up,  and  call  her  blessed ; her  husband  also,  and  he 
praiseth  her.  Many  daughters  have  done  virtuously, 
but  thou  excellest  them  all.  Favor  is  deceitful 
and  beauty  is  vain ; but  a woman  that  feareth  the 
Lord,  she  shall  be  praised.  Give  her  of  the  fruit  of 
her  hands  ; and  let  her  own  works  praise  her  in  the 
gates.” 

Without  commenting  on  this  beautiful  portrait,  I 
remark  that, — 

The  first  duty  of  the  conjugal  relation  is  mutual 
love.  We  were  made  to  love.  Rousseau  said, 

3 * 


30 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


“were  I in  a desert  I would  find  out  wherewith 
in  it  to  call  forth  ray  affections.  If  I could  do 
no  better,  I would  fasten  them  on  some  sweet 
myrtle,  or  some  melancholy  cypress,  I would  love  it 
for  its  shade,  and  greet  it  kindly  for  its  protection. 
'I  would  wiite  ray  name  upon  it,  and  pronounce  it 
the  sweetest  tree  in  all  the  desert.  K its  leaves 
withered,  I would  teach  myself  to  mourn,  and  if  it 
rejoiced,  I would  rejoice  vdth  it.”  Thus  love  is  “a 
fi’agrant  blossom  that  maketh  glad  the  garden  of  the 
heart.” 

I have  seen  a couple  at  the  hymeneal  altar,  when 
the  future  seemed  so  auspicious,  as  scarcely  to  admit 
that  a cloud  could  ever  darken  the  brilliant  horizon 
of  life.  Apparently,  the  young  lovers  anticipated  no 
other  than  “ halcyon  days  ” — that  they  would 
always  walk  amid  scenes  of  pleasure,  and  sit  in 
bowers  of  peace,  and  listen  to  the  music  of  the 
“ birds  of  paradise.”  But  there  came  a day  of 
clouds  and  darkness,  a tempest  swept  the  ocean  of 
their  joy,  and  billows  heaved  upon  its  depths  of 
pleasure.  It  was  a day  of  trial ; such  as  is  lik^y  to 
be  the  lot  of  every  wedded  pair,  however  cheering 
the  prospect  to  their  expectant  hearts.  For  more  is 
usually  anticipated  by  “ thdtwo  hearts  one,”  at  the 
altar  of  marriage,  than  is  enjoyed.  The  matrimonial 
state  is  hailed  as  an  Elysian  land,  where  sighs  are 
aU  hushed,  and  tears  are  aU  ‘vvdped  from  the  eyes. 
But  there  came  the  trial-time ; and  love  was  the 
angel-hand  that  buoyed  them  above  God’s  whelming 
billows.  In  every  instance  of  trial  in  the  marriage 
state,  this  is  nature’s  grand  supporter  — second  only 
to  a living  trust  in  God.  Alienations  dip  every 


THE  CONJUGAL  EELATION. 


31 


shaft  of  sorrow  in  poison  — render  every  trial  more 
bitter  and  insupportable.  Love  diminishes  by  divid- 
ing them  between  two  faithful  hearts. 

No  power  can  exceed  that  of  confiding  love.  It 
throws  a mantle  of  charity  over  a multitude  of  sins. 
It  blinds  the  bride  to  the  faults  of  her  spouse.  It 
magnifies  to  the  husband  the  virtues  of  his  wife. 
It  has  power  to  allure  and  charm  with  virtues  in 
each  other  which  are  only  imaginary.  It  causes  each 
to  see  such  qualities  in  the  other — such  bewitching 
charms  — as  neighbors  do  not  witness.  And  it  even 
presents  defects  under  the  false  coloring  of  alluring 
virtues.  As  Shakspeare  has  it,  — 

“ My  love  doth  so  approve  him, 

That  even  his  stubbornness,  his  checks,  and  frowns. 

Have  grace  and  favor  in  them.” 

It  is  well  that  in  this  perpetual  union,  love  has 
power  to  blind  us  to  each  other’s  faults.  It  spares 
us  many  hours  of  disappointment  and  discord. 

Both  husbands  and  wives  have  studied  how  to 
“ manage  their  companions.”  Many  have  been  the 
expedients  to  which  the  deluded  victims  of  disap- 
pointment have  resorted  to  enjoy  their  own  way,  and 
avoid  collision.  Unwise  and  unhappy  planning! 
To  dream  of  harmony  when  the  affections  are 
wickedly  withholden,  and  alienations  imbitter  the 
feelings  of  the  heart ! 

Inconsistent  with  this  duty  of  mutual  affection 
are  many  of  the  objects  for  which  some  persons  are 
known  to  marry.  We  wonder  not  that  the  woman, 
who  marries  a man  solely  to  have  a /tome,  should  be 
punished  by  finding  her  home  a type  of  heU.  It  is 


32 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


not  surprising  that  he  who  marries  a woman  for  a 
doll,  “ to  be  placed  in  a glass  case  and  set  in  the 
parlor  to  look  at  it,”  should  be  compelled  to  utter 
bitter  lamentations  at  the  last.  We  are  not  aston- 
ished that  wo  betides  the  man  who  is  more  enamored 
with  the  beauty  than  with  the  virtues  of  his  bride. 
Yet,  with  the  countless  warnings  that  are  read  in 
unhappy  matches  and  blasted  hopes,  it  is  stiU.  true 
that  thousands  are  allured  by  this  “ Will-o’-the- 
Wisp,”  so  that  the  maxim,  as  it  goes,  is  accordant 
with  truth,  “ she  that  is  born  a beauty  is  half  mar- 
ried.” 

How  surely  will  misery  attend  a marriage  that  is 
consummated  for  money  I 

^ “ Look  not  only  for  riches  lest  thou  be  mated  with  misery.” 

This  is  the  poet’s  warning ; and  in  it  is  more  truth 
than  poetry.  If  no  better  motive  than  this  fires 
the  heart  in  this  hfe-aUiance,  all  the  ills  that  curse 
any  son  and  daughter  of  Adam  are  not  too  great  a 
punishment  for  so  black  a crime. 

“ That  LOVE  is  sordid  wliich  doth  need 
Gold’s  filthy  dust  its  fires  to  feed ; 

That  acts  a higher,  nobler  part, 

That  comes,  unfettered,  from  the  heart.” 

Compared  with  a union  so  base  as  this,  how  grand 
and  ennobling  the  reply  of  the  Greek  bride,  who  was 
asked  what  fortune  she  should  bring  her  husband : 
“ I win  bring  him  what  gold  cannot  purchase,  — a 
heart  unspotted,  and  virtue  without  a stain,  which 
portion  is  aU  that  descended  to  me  from  my  parents.” 

Mutual  confidence  is  demanded  of  husband  and 


THE  CONJUGAL  EELATION. 


33 


wife.  Love  lays  the  foundation  for  it,  and  a careful 
watch  preserves  it.  This  confidence  ought  to  extend 
to  the  minutia  of  domestic  life.  The  business,  the 
cares,  the  tiials  of  each  should  be  unburdened  to  the 
other.  Even  to  the  characteristic  faults  that  blemish 
each  other’s  soul,  there  should  be  a frank  disclosure. 
The  wife  may  not  think  it  worth  the  while  that  her 
husband  be  apprised  of  all  her  plans,  and  especially 
with  some  that  have  to  do  with  Mrs.  A.,  or  Mrs.  B. ; 
and  she  may  even  think  that  a man  is  an  ignoramus 
in  aU  that  pertains  to  female  duties ; and,  therefore, 
it  were  foolish  to  give  the  information.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  husband  may  feel  that  a woman  can 
understand  very  little  of  his  affairs,  should  he  dis- 
close all  his  plans  of  business,  — that  the  compass  of 
her  ability  lies  in  “ basting  meat,  taking  stitches,  and 
rocking  babies.”  Here  begins  a mutual  distrust. 
Here  falls  the  spark  that  kindles  to  a flame  the  tinder 
of  discord.  It  is  seldom  that  we  find  a matrimonial 
alliance  entirely  felicitous ; because  such  unkind  sus- 
picion banishes  implicit  confidence  from  the  fireside. 
“ At  the  gate  which  suspicion  enters,  love  goes  out.” 
'It  were  far  better,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  that  a 
woman  forego  even  a benevolent  act,  than  to  per- 
form it,  as  is  often  done,  unbeknown  to  her  husband. 
It  were  wiser  for  the  husband  to  lose  the  opportunity 
to  win  his  thousands,  than  to  conceal  his  plans  from 
his  wife. 

Deception  is  wholly  inconsistent  vAth  this  mutu- 
ally confiding  spirit.  It  is  the  incipient  step  to  many 
painful  collisions.  The  disclosure  of  a single  in- 
stance of  this,  on  the  part  of  one  of  the  companions, 
tends  to  destroy  the  confidence  of  the  other. 


34 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Secrets  should  find  no  welcome  to  the  heart  of 
wife  or  husband.  Sad  stain  upon  the  -character  of 
him  or  her  who  covets  them  ! “ None  are  so  fond  of 
secrets  as  those  who  do  not  mean  to  keep  them ; 
such  persons  covet  secrets,  as  a spendthrift  covets 
money,  for  the  purpose  of  circulation.”  Beware  of 
a partner  who  harbors  a secret  in  the  breast ! Better 
be  wed  to  the  open-hearted,  who  carry  their  frank- 
ness to  the  extreme  in  revealing  what  they  know. 
Either  husband  or  wife  will  rue  the  day  it  is  dis- 
closed, that  a secret  has  been  treasured  in  the  heart. 
It  teUs  the  other,  in  the  silent  language  of  disclosure, 
“ my  confidence  in  you  is  not  complete.” 

Jealousy  is  the  saddest  breach  of  confidence.  It  is 
a rush  of  distrastful  feeling,  that  like  a torrent,  dash- 
ing and  roaring  over  its  broken  embankments,  sweeps 
away  the  buds  and  blossoms  of  peace,  and  tears  up 
by  the  roots  the  sturdiest  oak  of  Mendship.  God 
himself  hath  said  that  “jealousy  is  cruel  as  the 
grave.”  It  buries  the  confidence  and  happiness  of 
the  married  couple  in  a common  tomb.  The  cradle 
of  jealousy  is  the  sepulchre  of  domestic  bliss. 

Mutual  forbearance  is  indispensable  in  this  rela- 
tion. Excellent  as  may  be  the  characters  of  both 
the  parties,  neither  of  them  has  married  an  angeh 
The  lesson  “ to  bear  and  forbear,”  must  come  into 
their  “ preaching  and  practice.” 

“ The  kindest  and  the  happiest  pair 
'Will  find  occasion  to  forbear, 

And  something  every  day  they  live 
To  pity,  and  perhaps  forgive.” 

Strange,  indeed,  would  it  be,  if,  as  the  months  roll 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


35 


on,  no  imperfections  should  be  manifest  in  each 
other’s  character.  For  nothing  is  wholly  pure  and 
perfect  in  this  world.  The  snow-white  lily,  that  un- 
folds itself  to  the  morning  sun,  may  have  an  imper- 
fect petal.  The  sparkling  diamond — a fortune  in 
itself  — may  have  a tiny  flaw.  The  sun,  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  Creator’s  glory,  has  spots  upon  his  disc. 
It  were  strange  if  blemishes  did  not  stain  all  human 
characters,  if  defects  did  not  mar  human  conduct, 
requiring  all  to  learn  the  difficult  lesson,  “ TO  EORGIVE 
AND  FORGET.” 

“ For  tlie  best  compensation  is  paid  for  all  ill, 

When  the  cheek  with  contrition  is  wet, 

And  every  one  feels  it  is  possible,  still. 

At  once  to  forgive  and  forget.”  *' 

Hence  the  need  of  mutual  forbearance  in  the  mar- 
riage state,  upon  the  principle  that  both  have  faults. 
The  husband  should  look  upon  the  blemishes  of  his 
wife  as  he  regards  the  spots  upon  the  sun  ; and  vice 
versa. 

Mutual  good  temper  is  another  duty  of  wed- 
ded persons.  There  are  “ moods  ” in  matrimony  as 
weU  as  in  grammar,  — the  equable,  peevish,  fretful, 
and  scolding  moods,  — and  the  temper  is  in  one  or 
the  other.  The  first  is  known  by  the  peace  that  flows 
“ like  a river ; ” and  the  others  by  the  withering  look, 
or  the  flash  of  harsh  invective.  One  severe  reply 
breeds  another,  until  the  domestic  altar  is  made  the 
rostrum  for  acting  the  famous  drama,  “ Tit  for  Tat.” 

A good  temper  is  less  expensive  than  a bad  one ; 


* Tapper. 


y6  LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 

and  the  kind  words  which  it  prompts,  may  be  ut- 
tered without  blistering  the  tongue.  They  cost  little, 
and  shp  out  from  the  heart  without  alarming  the 
conscience.  They  neither  break  nor  bruise  any 
thing,  nor  wound  a heart,  though  they  sometimes 
burn  by  heaping  “ coals  of  fire  ” on  erring  people’s 
heads.  There  are  passionate  words,  and  sarcastic 
words,  and  idle  words,  and  vain  words,  and  spiteful 
words,  and  silly  words,  and  great  swelling  words ; 
but  they  aU  slink  away  for  very  shame  before  the 
kind  words  of  a mild  and  equable  temper.  “ Tart 
words  make  no  friends.”  The  following  lines  were 
sent  to  Matthew  Henry  the  Commentator  at  the 
time  of  his  marriage,  by  his  venerable  father. 

‘j^Love  one  anotlier  ; pray  oft  together ; and  see 

You  never  both  together  angry  be; 

If  one  speak  fire,  t’other  with  water  come; 

Is  one  provoked  ? be  t’  other  soft  or  dumb.” 

A scold  for  a companion  is  the  bane  of  domestic 
bhss.  Habitual  scolding  renders  either  party  un- 
lovely. Mr.  A.  wonders  that  his  wife  is  so  mute 
and  unsocial  as  the  shades  of  evening  are  gathering. 
And  Mrs.  B.  is  at  her  “ wits’  end  ” to  learn  the 
reason  her  husband  dislikes  her  company,  and  spends 
his  evenings  at  the  tavern.  But,  in  both  instances, 
the  reason  hes  in  the  fact  that  they  are  habitual 
fretters  or  scolders.  Many  a man  has  been  driven 
to  the  tavern,  and  his  cups,  and  to  a drunkard’s 
grave,  by  a peevish  and  fretful  ■«dfe.  IMany  a wife 
has  had  her  heart  and  hopes  crushed,  and  been 
plunged  into  mental  misery,  by  a similar  cruel  spirit 
on  the  part  of  her  husband. 


THE  CONJUGAL  BELATION. 


37 


The  following  incidents  are  illustrative  of  a good 
temper.  A married  man  was  spending  the  evening, 
as  usual,  with  his  jovial  companions  at  the  tavern. 
The  conversation,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  was 
directed  to  the  faults  of  their  wives.  One  of  the 
number  declared,  after  a discourse  upon  the  provo- 
cations of  married  life,  that  his  wife  was,  neverthe- 
less, a woman  of  remarkably  mild  temper ; and 
added,  “ were  I,  gentlemen,  to  take  you  home  with 
me  at  midnight,  and  order  her  to  rise  and  get  you  a 
supper,  she  would  be  all  submission  and  cheerful- 
ness.” The  company  were  incredulous,  and  a wager 
was  staked.  So  about  midnight  they  started  to 
make  the  experiment.  Being  admitted,  “ Where  is 
your  mistress  ? ” said  the  husband  to  the  maid-ser- 
vant who  sat  up  for  him.  “ She  is  gone  to  bed,  sir ! ” 
“ Call  her  up,”  said  he.  “ Tell  her  I have  brought 
some  friends  home  with  me,  and  desire  she  would 
get  up,  and  prepare  them  a supper.”  At  once  “ the 
woman  obeyed  the  um'easonable  summons,  and  re- 
ceived the  company  with  perfect  civility ; told  them 
she  happened  to  have  some  chickens  ready  for  the 
spit,  and  supper  should  be  prepared  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. The  supper  was  accordingly  served  up ; when 
she  performed  the  honors  of  the  table  with  as  much 
cheerfulness  as  if  she  had  expected  company  at  a 
proper  season.”  The  husband  won  the  wager,  and 
such  an  exhibition  of  good  temper  resulted  in  making 
him  a better  man.  It  is  one  of  the  rewards  of  obey- 
ing the  Apostolic  injunction,  “ Wives,  submit  your- 
selves unto  your  own  husbands,  as  unto  the  Lord.” 
Such  a wife,  amid  the  varied  scenes  of  domestic  life, 

4 


38 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


is  a kind  of  moral  talisman.  She  reminds  us  of  a 
certain  aquatic  plant  which  spreads  its  top  on  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  with  wonderful  elasticity 
keeps  the  surface  stdl,  if  the  water  swells,  or  if  it 
falls.  “ In  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness.”  She 
is  like  the  statue  of  Memnon  in  Eg}’pt,  giving  forth 
dehghtful  sounds  with  every  rising  day,  whether  in 
sunshine  or  in  storm.  Her  heavenly  temper  resem- 
bles that  of  our  mother  Eve,  in  her  reception  and 
entertainment  of  the  angel  Raphael,  so  gentle,  so 
kind,  so  cheerful,  so  lovely. 

Side  by  side  with  this  example  of  an  excellent 
wife,  we  may  place  the  following  example  of  a hus- 
band, as  happy  in  his  temper.  Bishop  Co\\'per 
had  been  eight  years  in  collecting  materials  for  his 
Dictionary.  One  day,  in  his  absence,  his  wdfe,  who 
was  afraid  he  would  injure  himself  by  his  arduous 
studies,  gathered  up  aU  the  manuscripts  he  had  been 
so  long  collecting,  and  committed  them  to  the 
flames.  It  was  done  to  save  the  good  man’s  life. 
When  he  returned,  she  told  hiiu  what  she  had  done. 
Satisfied  of  the  kind  motive  which  prompted  her,  he 
coolly  replied  in  these  brief  words,  “ Woman!  thou 
hast  put  me  to  eight  more  years  of  study.”  The  re- 
ply was  dignified  and  Christian,  and  accomplished 
more  than  a storm  of  anger. 

A few  kind  words  are  not  sufiicient  to  atone  for  a 
general  habit  of  fi-etfulness.  The  rose  parts  with  its 
lovely  hues,  and  the  daisy  droops  upon  the  hiU-side, 
if  only  one  sunny  day  in  seven  pomrs  genial  rays 
upon  it,  while  the  other  days  bring  storms.  There  is 
need  of  continual  kindness  in  this  delicate  relation, 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


39 


to  insure  peace.  To  this  end  mutual  yielding  is 
needful.  For  “ in  love’s  wars,  he  who  fleeth  is 
conqueror.” 

Mutual  attention  is  yet  another  duty.  It  has  been 
said,  that  “ a woman  can  bear  any  thing  better 
than  a slight.”  As  much  may  be  said  of  man.  On 
either  side,  neglect  may  awaken  suspicion  and  jeal- 
ousy. Both,  however,  should  be  careful  not  to  con- 
strue every  instance  of  apparent  indifference  into 
intentional  neglect.  The  husband  has  more  connec- 
tion with  the  world  — its  numerous  cares  and  anxie- 
ties — its  failures  and  sad  reverses.  The  same  flow 
of  cheerfulness  will  not  always  speak  in  his  eye,  nor 
live  in  his  heart.  His  mind  is  sometimes  intensely 
absorbed  in  his  worldly  afiairs,  and  often  jaded  by 
disappointments,  so  that  he  may  not  always  return 
at  evening  to  his  family  with  his  wonted  joy  and 
cheerfulness.  He  may  omit  an  accustomed  word  of 
gi’eeting.  He  may  be  unsocial  and  silent.  And  yet 
this  may  not  be  neglect.  The  wife  should  have 
good-sense  enough  to  perceive  and  understand  this. 
There  is  a time  to  talk  and  a time  to  be  silent,  — a 
time  to  laugh  and  a time  to  reflect,  — a time  to  be 
merry  and  a time  to  be  sober.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  silence  or  sadness  of  a wife,  her  want  of  inter- 
est and  attention,  should  not  always  be  construed 
into  designed  neglect  by  her  husband.  Abundant 
reasons  for  this  may  exist,  and  these  should  first  be 
sought. 

There  are  many  practices  in  married  life  incon- 
sistent with  this  mutual  attention.  One  only  wiU 
be  named.  The  husband  often  spends  his  evenings 
unnecessarily  away  from  home,  at  the  tavern  or  in 


40 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


shops.  It  is  not  a very  flattering  compliment  to  the  so- 
cial character  of  his  wife.  If  he  prefers  the  company 
of  his  joking  neighbors,  in  tavern  or  store,  to  that  of 
his  chosen  wife  at  home,  there  is  something  vTong 
in  his  views  and  feelings.  Were  he  compelled  to  sit 
solitary  and  alone,  through  the  evenings  of  winter, 
while  his  wife  is  “ making  merry  ” at  the  neighbors, 
methinks  he  would  be  heartily  sick  of  home,  if  not 
of  her.  “ It  is  a poor  rule  that  won’t  work  both 
ways.”  This  leads  me  to  remark,  in  close  connec- 
tion with  the  above  : — 

A just  appreciation  of  each  other’s  trials  is  in- 
volved in  the  duties  of  married  life. 

The  husband  has  cares  both  at  home  and  abroad. 
He  has  domestic  duties  to  perform,  and  the  still 
more  pressing  ones  of  his  peculiar  business  to  dis- 
charge. He  must  provide  for  his  table  — furnish  his 
family  with  necessary  clothing  — secure  and  bargain 
with  domestics  — procure  fuel  to  warm  his  habita- 
tion— oversee  the  culture  of  his  garden  — and  at- 
tend to  other  matters  at  home,  while  important  busi- 
ness may  demand  his  attention  abroad.  He  has  la- 
borers to  obtain  and  counsel — materials  to  purchase 
and  distribute  — markets  to  watch  and  visit  — plans 
to  devise  and  study  — goods  to  sell  — collections  to 
make  — accounts  to  settle  — disappointments  to 
meet  — and  numberless  other  cares  and  responsibili- 
ties of  his  avocation  to  bear. 

The  wife  sits  queen  of  the  domestic  circle,  but 
not  without  her  trials.  Every  day  brings  them  to 
her  lot.  They  are  new  every  morning,  and  fresh 
every  evening.  Let  us  count  her  trials  in  a sin- 
gle day.  Brealifast  at  an  early  hour  to  accom- 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


41 


modate  her  husband  about  his  business  — Hattie 
and  Willie  to  wash  and  dress  — Ann,  the  fretful 
Irish  girl  in  the  kitchen,  to  flatter  and  direct  — to 
officiate  at  the  table,  pour  coffee,  and  wait  upon  the 
clamoring  children,  aU  at  once  — by  this  time  the 
babe  is  awake  and  screaming  in  the  cradle  — he 
must  be  washed,  clothed,  and  fed,  whde  other  duties 
are  suspended  — the  other  children  to  be  prepared 
for  school,  faces  washed,  clothes  adjusted,  hair 
combed  — now,  breakfast  finished  — table  is  to  be 
cleared,  dishes  washed,  rooms  swept  and  dusted  — 
baby  is  crying  lustily  — nursing,  rocking,  singing  — 
door-beU  ringing  — morning  calls  — mortification 
and  apologies  — child  asleep,  callers  gone,  hair  to 
adjust  and  morning  dress  to  change  — all  hurry  for 
dinner  — in  come  the  children  from  school,  scream- 
ing and  crying  — Hattie  has  torn  her  apron,  and 
Willie  has  tumbled  down  and  cut  his  face  — bed- 
lam reigns  for  a minute  — kisses  and  kind  words,  by 
a kind  of  miracle,  produce  quiet,  just  as  the  husband 
comes  to  dine  — all  is  peace  and  happiness,  so  that 
he  begins  to  think  his  home  is  as  free  from  trial 
as  Paradise.  After  dinner  the  same  scene  over  and 
over,  and  worse  too  — Willie  is  coming  down  with 
the  measles  — the  other  children  must  have  them 
too  — and  then  the  mumps,  whooping-cough,  and 
chicken-pox  — what  sleepless  nights  and  anxious 
days  — watching,  dosing,  sweating,  worn,  weary, 
sad  — poor  woman’s  unequal  share  — the  husband 
away  about  his  business. 

Be  not  regardless  of  a woman’s  trials,  O man ! 
Appreciate  a man’s  trials,  O woman ! 

Mutual  industry  is  also  required.  This  is  a strong 
4* 


42 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


link  in  the  golden  chain  of  matrimonial  bhss. 
ApoUo  could  convert  a tortoise  shell  into  a charming 
harp  because  he  was  up  with  the  breaking  morn. 
But  Narcissus,  “ idly  gazing  at  his  o\^ti  features  re- 
flected in  the  placid  mirror  of  a fountain,  until 
fatally  and  foohshly  enamored  of  his  own  inspired 
charms,  perished  there,  an  image  of  indolence  and 
vanity.” 

' The  marriage  of  an  industrious  woman  to  a lazy 
man,  or  vice  versa,  is  an  unhappy  aUiance.  Indo- 
lence or  idleness,  on  the  part  of  either,  or  of  both, 
breeds  many  ills  to  mar  the  harmony  of  connubial 
intercomse.  The  Turkish  proverb  is  just  as  true  in 
matrimony  as  elsewhere : “ The  devil  tempts  aU 
other  men,  but  idle  men  tempt  the  devd.”  Prince 
Eugene  “ informed  a confidential  friend  that,  in  the 
course  of  his  fife,  he  had  been  exposed  to  many  Poti- 
phars  to  aU  of  whom  he  had  proved  a Joseph,  merely 
because  he  had  so  many  other  things  to  do.” 

A slothful,  indolent,  prating,  gadding  woman  is 
both  a moth  and  a mortification  to  a sensitive  hus- 
band. A lazy,  lounging,  shiftless  man  is  a burden 
to  a faithful,  toihng  wife.  For  either  party  to  feel 
the  necessity  of  toiling  with  industrious  hand,  while 
the  other  gads  or  lounges,  is  the  bane  of  conjugal 
bhss. 

CoUatinus  boasted  of  the  industrious  habits  of  his 
wife,  Lucretia ; and  one  day  while  banqueting  with 
several  princes,  he  laid  a wager,  that  an  unexpected 
visit  to  then-  wives  would  find  his  partner  busily 
engaged  with  her  domestics.  The  wager  was  ac- 
cepted, and  away  they  rode  to  Borne,  where  they 
found  the  princesses  revelhng  at  a luxmlous  banquet 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


43 


with  their  Iriends.  From  Rome  they  hastened  to 
Collatia,  the  residence  of  Lucretia,  where  they  found 
her,  late  at  night,  engaged  in  spinning  amid  the 
circle  of  her  maids.  Her  husband  gloried  in  the 
triumph  he  had  won  through  her  domestic  virtues. 

It  was  the  pride  of  Augustus  Caesar  that  his  wife 
had  a hand  in  making  his  imperial  robes  and  costly 
girdle.  “ Tanaquil,  the  wife  of  Tarquin,  wrought 
woollen  robes  so  well,  that  long  after  her  death,  her 
spinning  implements,  together  with  a robe  of  her 
manufacture,  were  hung  up  in  the  Temple  of  For- 
tune ; ” a constant  lesson  of  industry  to  Roman 
maids  and  matrons.  The  favored  Jewish  husband, 
in  the  days  of  Solomon,  did  “ safely  trust  ” in  his 
companion,  because  she  ate  “ not  the  bread  of  idle- 
ness,” but  “ worked  willingly  with  her  hands.” 

Among  these  mutual  duties  we  would  not  fail  to 
speak  of  little  things.  These  are  of  vast  importance 
in  manied  life.  A single  word,  a trifling  act,  has 
power  to  bless  or  mar  a match.  A hint  may  start 
suspicions  and  jealousies  enough  to  destroy  the  hap- 
piness of  husband  and  wife.  A single  act  of  kind- 
ness has  power  to  span  the  future  with  the  rainbo'w- 
promise  of  hope. 

“ A pebble  in  the  streamlet  scant 

Has  turned  the  course  of  many  a river ; 

A clew-dro2)  on  the  baby  plant 
lias  warped  the  giant  oak  forever.” 

What  harsh  words  and  alienations  have  grown  out 
of  even  the  naming  of  a child  ! Both  parties  assert- 
ing that  they  are  not  at  aU  particular,  yet  indirectly 
contending  for  some  favorite  name ! One  yielding 


44 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


with  apparent  cheerfulness,  yet  reluctantly  at  heart, 
to  be  dissatisfied  for  life,  and  disclose  the  inward 
feeling  by  “ flings  ” over  the  little  one’s  Christian 
name ! Such  a trifle  has  cast  its  darkling  shadows 
over  more  than  one  matrimonial  alliance. 

A niggardly,  stingy  spirit,  united  with  vanity  in 
respect  to  dress,  greatly  lowers  the  wife  in  the  esteem 
of  a generous  husband.  A too  rigid  economy  in 
furnishing  the  table  — poorer  provisions  served  up  for 
the  servants,  simply  that  more  may  be  expended  for 
silks  and  satins  — cheating  the  stomach  to  adorn 
the  back  — this  is  an  exhibition  of  a mind  so  shal- 
low, and  a heart  so  empty,  that  any  noble  man  must 
view  it  with  contempt.  It  may  create  a family 
quarrel. 

Liattention  to  the  relatives  of  husband  or  wife  is 
often  the  cause  of  alienations.  If  the  wife  is  indif- 
ferent to  the  kindred  of  her  husband,  cold  and  dis- 
tant in  their  reception,  and  all  life  and  interest  in 
waiting  upon  her  own,  it  wiU  not  escape  his  notice. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  the  husband  manifests  little 
interest  in  the  relatives  of  his  wife,  while  he  is  all 
attention  to  his  own,  it  ■^fill  not  escape  her  observant 
eye.  Here  mutual  jealousy  may  arise,  and  harmony 
be  destroyed. 

Little  words  of  unkindness  often  occasion  trouble 
in  the  family.  Sometimes  the  husband,  jaded  and 
fretted  by  his  business,  is  unfitted  to  ajjpreciate  the 
toils  of  his  excellent  wife ; and  he  complains  of  the 
food,  “ too  plain  ” or  “ too  rich  ; ” “ the  bread  is  poor 
and  miserably  baked ; ” the  meat  is  cooked  “ too 
much”  or  “too  little;”  his  “clothes  are  never 
mended ; ” and  nothing  is  right,  but  aU  wrong. 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


45 


Again,  the  wife  complains  of  the  servant,  and  of  the 
toils  of  housekeeping,  and  intimates  that  her  hus- 
band is  not  exactly  what  he  should  be,  and  closes 
with  a pitiable  sigh  over  the  trials  of  the  mamage 
state.  Thus  from  little  words,  uttered  without  con- 
sideration, there  grow  discontent  and  strife,  until  the 
parties  quarrel,  and  curse  their  wedding  day. 

Nearly  all  family  disputes  commence  with  little 
things.  Some  peccadillo  is  made  the  theme  of  warm 
discussion,  as  if  it  were  a case  of  life  and  death,  and 
eloquence  and  passion  storm  around  it,  until  love 
and  concord  are  no  more.  Says  Jeremy  Taylor : 
“ Man  and  wife  are  equally  concerned  to  avoid  all 
offences  of  each  other  at  the  beginning  of  their  con- 
versation. Every  little  thing  can  blast  an  infant 
blossom,  and  the  breath  of  the  south  can  shake  the 
little  rings  of  the  vine  when  first  they  begin  to  curl 
lilie  the  locks  of  a new-weaned  boy ; but  when  by 
age  and  consolidation  they  stiffen  into  the  hardness 
of  a stem,  and  have,  by  the  warm  embraces  of  the 
sun  and  the  kisses  of  heaven,  brought  forth  their 
clusters,  they  can  endure  the  storms  of  the  north, 
and  the  loud  noises  of  a tempest,  and  yet  never  be 
broken.” 

But  no  matrimonial  connection  can  be  truly  felic- 
itous without  the  benign  and  sanctifying  influence 
of  RELIGION.  This  sweetens  the  temper,  hallows  the 
affections,  and  purifies  the  heart.  This  leads  to 
mutual  faithfulness,  kindness,  and  attachment,  from 
the  highest  and  holiest  principle.  This  brings  the 
loving  couple  to  the  throne  of  grace,  where  the 
heavenly  influence  of  prayer  is  shed  over  the  thoughts 
of  the  mind,  and  the  feelings  of  the  heart.  This 


46 


LITE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


enjoins  mutual  love,  confidence,  and  attention,  and 
a long  train  of  lively  graces  belonging  to  wedlock’s 
“ string  of  pearls.”  This  converts  the  petty  annoy- 
ances and  vexations  of  life  into  aids  to  mutual  devo- 
tion, proving  them  to  be  blessings  in  disguise.  The 
pearl-oyster,  by  some  mysterious  secretion,  converts 
the  fretting  grain  of  sand,  that  is  forced  within  its 
shell,  into  a eostly  gem  to  adorn  the  neck  of  beauty. 
Thus  religion  converts  the  little,  UTitating  occurrences 
and  trials  of  wedded  life  into  pearls  of  priceless 
worth ; so  that  each  one’s  heart  is  richer  for  their 
existence. 

The  Scriptures  speak  as  follows  of  the  duties 
of  husbands  and  wives.  To  the  former  the  counsel 
is : “ Husbands,  love  your  wives,  even  as  Christ 
also  loved  the  church,  and  gave  himself  for  it,  that 
he  might  sanctify  and  clease  it  with  the  washing 
of  water  by  the  word,  that  he  might  present  it  to 
himself  a glorious  church,  not  having  spot  or  wTrinkle, 
or  any  such  thing ; but  that  it  should  be  holy  and 
without  blemish.  So  ought  men  to  love  their  wives, 
as  their  own  bodies.  Let  every  one  so  love  his  wife 
even  as  himself.”  “ Husbands,  love  your  wives,  and 
be  not  bitter  against  them.”  “ Ye  husbands,  give 
honor  unto  the  wife,  as  unto  the  weaker  vessel.”  To 
wives  the  Divme  lesson  is  : “ Wives,  submit  yom- 
selves  unto  your  own  husbands,  as  unto  the  Lord. 
For  the  husband  is  the  head  of  the  wife,  even  as 
Christ  is  the  head  of  the  church.  Therefore,  as 
the  church  is  subject  unto  Christ,  so  let  the  wives  be 
to  then.'  own  husbands,  in  every  thing.”  “ Let  the 
wife  see  that  she  reverence  her  husband.”  This  is 
God’s  household  charter — a charter  of  “women’s 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


47 


rights  ” as  well  as  men’s  ; — love  and  protection  on 
the  part  of  the  husband,  and  reverence  and  submis- 
sion on  the  part  of  the  wife.  He  shall  not  stretch  out 
over  her  the  sceptre  of  a lordly  master,  nor  must  she 
crouch  in  servile  obedience  to  be  his  slave.  “ Love 
and  lordship  like  no  fellowship.”  Has  shah,  be  the 
rule  of  love,  and  her’s  the  submission  of  the  same 
confiding  spirit.  It  is  such  a husband  who  deserves 
a wife.  It  is  such  “ an  obedient  wife  that  com- 
mands her  husband.” 

The  following  are  the  chief  duties  of  married  life, 
— a union,  all  of  whose  thrilling  destinies  will  not 
be  opened  to  our  view,  until  we  stand  amid  the 
solemn  verities  of  the  last  great  assize.  There  is 
meaning,  then,  deep  and  touching,  in  the  sacred 
bonds  of  maniage.  It  is  not  an  irresponsible  delight 
to  make  the  plighted  vow,  to  add  another  to  earth’s 
widely  scattered  homes,  to  become  the  constituted 
and  united  head  of  a family,  and  to  train  children 
that  bloom  like  “ olive  plants  ” around  the  festive 
board.  There  is  trial,  discipline,  and  great  respon- 
sibility here.  Character,  hopes,  and  happiness  are 
here  involved.  The  illustrations  of  this  truth,  along 
the  thoroughfares  of  life,  are  a swift  witness  against 
the  inconsiderate  and  rash,  who  take  partners  for 
life,  with  as  little  sense  of  obligation,  as  they  add 
acres  to  their  lands,  or  articles  to  their  wardrobes. 

Again  we  say  to  wedded  ones,  before  the  altar 
where  your  connubial  bands  were  tied,  consider  well 
your  duties.  You  are  to  make  a home!  — a green 
islet  upon  this  “ sea  of  trouble,”  inviting  the  tossed 
and  weary  voyager  of  life  to  its  crystal  waters  and 
ambrosial  shades,  — a refuge  for  the  victim  of  mis- 


48 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


fortune,  fleeing  before  the  storm  of  adversity,  as  a 
bird  to  its  nest  in  the  mountain-pine ; a bright  spot 
(than  which  earth  has  not  a brighter)  to  the  traveller 
in  distant  climes,  or  the  exile  in  lonely  banishment, 
the  earthly  Bethlehem  of  his  hopes.  Oh,  make  it 
the  nucleus  around  which  a cluster  of  hearts,  with 
hopes  brighter  than  the  burning  seven  of  Pleiades, 
shall  gather  from  their  scattered  pathways,  to  take 
sweet  counsel,  and  tiim  their  lamps  for  the  bride- 
groom’s coming ! Live  as  one  together  in  all  that 
appertains  to  love  and  duty,  and  your  early  friend- 
ship will  grow  and  mingle  with  advancing  years,  as 
two  trees,  planted  near  each  other,  interlock  their 
spreading  branches,  and  blend  then-  foliage,  as  time 
rolls  on. 

Faithless  husband ! forgetful  of  the  marriage  vow, 
and  looking  down  upon  thy  “ second  self,”  as  the 
“ weaker  vessel  ” in  an  humbling  sense,  thou  hast 
yet  to  learn  that  in  much  she  is  thy  superior.  In 
her  keen  perception,  her  common  sense  and  sound 
judgment,  in  her  refined  taste  and  lasting  fidelity, 
she  excels  thee.  Thou  hast  more  head  than  she, 
perhaps,  but  she  hath  the  larger  heart.  Her  strong 
affections  live  amid  all  thy  coldness  and  neglect,  as 
w’hen  first  she  became  thy  bride.  IMore  faithful  and 
confiding,  she  turns  to  thee  with  a trusting  spirit 
when  thy  own  base  heart  is  treacherous  as  the  sea. 
She  loves  on  with  the  ardor  of  her  early  love,  through 
all  the  storms  that  gather  on  thy  brow,  and  all  the 
tempests  that  thunder  on  thy  tongue,  and  all  the 
alienations  that  rankle  in  thy  heart.  Yea,  if  drunk- 
ard were  thy  name,  and  thy  visage  blotched  and 
ulcered  tfll  the  human  were  weUnigh  stricken  out, 


THE  CONJUGAL  RELATION. 


49 


and  thy  manliness  were  gone,  and  thy  body  sinking 
to  decay,  she  would  love  thee  stiU,  and  her  warm 
affections  would  cling  to  thy  wasting  self,  lilce  “ ivy 
to  the  falling  tower.”  Pattern  of  fidelity ! Love’s 
traitorless  defender  amid  a wreck  of  hopes ! Then, 
regard  her  not  as  the  “ weaker  vessel  ” in  any  infe- 
rior sense.  She  was  not  “taken  from  thy  head,  to 
rule  thee ; nor  from  thy  feet,  to  be  trampled  on  and 
crushed ; but  from  thy  side,  to  be  equal  with  thee ; 
ffom  beneath  thine  arm,  to  be  protected ; and  near 
thy  heart,  to  be  beloved.” 

Love  and  protect  her.  Confide  in  her.  Think 
not  she  has  too  little  sense  to  be  consulted  in  thy 
business.  Poor  compliment  to  thee,  if  this  be  true, 
for  a choice  so  wretched!  What!  have  the  world 
believe  that  you  have^ chosen  a fool  for  a partner  ? 
If  not,  love,  cherish,  and  honor  her  as  thy  “ better 
half.”  Let  the  face  of  thy  wife  publish  abroad  thy 
conjugal  fidelity  ; for  it  is  a truthful  saying,  “ observe 
the  face  of  a wife  to  know  the  husband’s  character.” 

Let  wives,  also,  who  share  the  bliss  or  misery  of 
married  life,  remember  for  what  their  nuptial  bands 
were  tied.  It  was  not  that  you  might  flirt,  or  live  at 
ease ; but  to  counsel  and  comfort,  reflect  and  toil,  — 
to  be  a help-meet  in  seasons  of  prosperity  or  adver- 
sity,— to  diminish  trials  and  multiply  joys.  Listen 
to  these  quaint  words  of  an  eccentric  counsellor. 
“ There  are  three  things  which  a good  wife  should 
resemble,  and  yet  these  three  things  she  should  not 
resemble.  She  should  be  like  a town  clock,  keep 
good  time  and  regularity  — she  should  not  be  like  a 
town  clock,  speak  so  loud  that  all  the  town  may 
hear  her.  She  should  be  like  a snail  — prudent,  and 

5 


50 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


keep  within  her  own  house.  She  should  not  be  like 
a snail,  carry  all  she  has  upon  her  back.  She  should 
be  like  an  echo  — speak  when  spoken  to.  She 
should  not  be  like  an  echo,  determined  always  to 
have  the  last  word.”  Practise  upon  the  spirit  of  this 
advice,  and  let  the  wedded  life  be  seasoned  with 
love,  cheerfulness,  and  content,  making  the  best  of 
the  little  ills  and  vexations  of  the  domestic  circle, 
and  possibly  the  unfeeling,  unloving  husbands  may 
not  be  so  cruel  after  aU.  Let  home  be  cheered  by 
your  smiles,  and  made  joyous  by  the  exercise  of  glad 
affections.  Let  your  husbands  find  in  you  confiding 
and  unwavering  spirits.  Let  the  duties  of  your  re- 
spective spheres  be  discharged  in  good  faith  and 
cheerily.  And  home  will  be  the  spot  dearer  than  all 
others  to  your  toiling  partners,  hailed  at  the  close  of 
each  wearisome  day  as  the  worn  and  jaded  traveller 
hails  the  oasis  of  the  desert.  Take  heed  to  your 
demeanor ; for  it  hath  been  said  that  “ a man’s  best 
fortune,  or  his  worst,  is  his  wife.” 

Husband  and  wife ! To-day  a thousand  endear- 
ments may  promise,  long,  long  years  of  this  chosen 
union.  Not  a brier  may  spring  in  your  path ; nor  a 
cloud  gather  in  your  sky  ; nor  a sorrow  reign  in  your 
hearts.  But  to-morrow  your  cup  of  joy  may  lie, 
dashed  in  scattered  fragments,  at  your  feet.  The  tie 
that  now  unites  you  may  be  severed  ; and  the  grave 
close  over  your  perished  joys.  Love,  as  ardent  as 
yours,  has  been  disappointed  and  crushed  in  a single 
hour.  Hopes,  fairer  than  the  rose  of  Sharon,  have 
been  blasted  by  death.  I have  seen  the  youthful 
bride,  the  pride  and  flower  of  her  sex,  and  the  joy 
and  crown  of  her  devoted  spouse,  committed  to  the 


THE  CONJUGAL  KELATION. 


51 


dust  within  a single  year  after  she  laid  her  young 
heart  upon  the  altar  of  love.  I have  seen  the  young 
husband,  in  the  glory  of  his  growing  manhood,  and 
in  the  unabated  ardor  of  his  “ first  love,”  fall  as  a 
flourishing  cedar  on  the  sides  of  Lebanon,  and  be  no 
more.  Thus  the  dearest  relatives  are  unspared  by 
the  fell  destroyer.  Ponder  the  truth,  and  let  it  stim- 
ulate you  to  discharge  with  promptness  your  mu- 
tual obligations,  that  no  regrets  may  wring  the  heart, 
when  the  object  of  your  affection  is  consigned  to  the 
grave.  Sad  and  bitter  are  those  regrets  that  often 
rend  the  hearts  of  the  living  at  the  graves  of  the  de- 
parted. The  remembrance  of  some  unkind  word, 
some  heartless  neglect,  some  duty  disregarded,  often 
pierces  the  soul  with  many  sorrows.  Be  watchful 
— be  affectionate  — be  land  — be  faithful  — be  true. 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


“ 0 cliildren,  — happy  word  of  peace,  — my  jewels  and  my  gold, 

My  truest  friends  till  now,  and  still  my  truest  friends  when  old, 

I will  be  every  thing  to  you,  your  playmate  and  your  guide. 

Both  Jlentor  and  Telemachus,  for  ever  at  your  side!  ” 

Tcpper. 


Eli  was  devout  and  pious,  one  of  the  trae  and 
faithful ; yet,  at  the  very  foot  of  the  household  altar, 
“ his  sons  made  themselves  vile,”  and  went  down  to 
untimely  and  dishonored  graves.  Jacob  was  meek 
and  holy ; yet  his  sons,  with  a single  exception,  had 
a fame  of  infamy  for  then*  unfihal  and  unlraternal 
deeds.  David,  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  and  the 
princely  shepherd  of  Judea,  was  humble  and  spirit- 
ual; yet  among  his  children  were  Adonijah,  the  un- 
natural and  traitorous ; Amnon,  the  profligate ; and 
Absalom,  the  cruel  and  rebellious. 

Hume  was  recldess  of  the  solemn  verities  of  re- 
ligion, a gifted  and  distinguished  champion  of  infi- 
dehty ; yet  he  was  the  son  of  a godly  mother,  the 
child  of  many  pious  instructions  and  prayers.  Aaron 
Burr  occupies  no  enviable  place  upon  the  page  of 
American  history,  given,  as  were  his  splendid  genius 
and  ripest  energies,  to  reproach  his  country  and  his 

(52) 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


53 


country’s  God ; yet  he  was  the  son  of  the  pious  and 
devoted  daughter  of  President  Edwards. 

Why  is  this  ? Is  God  unfaithful  ? His  words 
are,  “ Train  up  a child  in  the  way  he  should  go ; and 
when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it.”  Yet, 
here  are  examples  of  the  holiest  parents  having  the 
most  incorrigible  children.  Is  the  declaration  false  ? 
This,  by  fair  construction,  encourages  us  to  believe 
that  a proper  religious  disciphne  tends  to  produce 
the  best  developed  characters  in  children.  “ Train 
up  a child  in  the  way  he  should  go  ; and  when  he  is 
old  he  will  not  depart  horn  it.”  If  it  be  not  a posi- 
tive promise,  the  language  is  designed,  certainly,  to 
create  the  expectation  that  a proper  training  of  chil- 
dren will  estabhsh  them  in  vhtue. 

Surely  the  fault  is  not  in  God.  Yet,  it  has  been 
adduced  as  evidence  of  Divine  Sovereignty,  — that 
the  base  Absalom  was  the  son  of  pious  David,  and 
good  Hezekiah,  the  son  of  wicked  Ahaz,  — as  if 
there  were  little  or  no  parental  responsibility  in  the 
matter.  We  are  far  Aom  denying  sovereignty  to 
God  in  this  or  other  human  affairs  ; but  a glance  at 
the  facts  in  the  several  examples  before  mentioned 
will  show  that  in  these,  if  not  in  others,  parental 
government  was  defective. 

Eh’s  sons  were  ruined  by  his  excessive  indulgence. 
God  expressly  declared  that  dire  calamities  were  vis- 
ited upon  his  family,  “ because  his  sons  made  them- 
selves vile  and  he  restrained  them  notP  The  ahena- 
tion,  and  almost  tragical  scenes,  that  characterized 
the  family  of  Jacob,  resulted  wholly  from  his  partial- 
ity to  Joseph.  The  guilty  brothers  saw  it  undis- 
guised in  the  “ coat  of  many  colors.”  David  also 
5* 


54 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


was  chargeable  with  immoderate  indulgence  ; for  it 
is  said  of  his  son  Adonijah,  “ that  his  father  had  not 
displeased  him  at  any  time,  in  saying,  Why  hast 
thou  done  so  ? ” With  all  his  piety,  he  was  also 
guilty  of  some  gross  immoralities,  as  a backslider, 
which  must  have  greatly  hindered  the  force  of  his 
otherwise  excellent  example. 

The  mother  of  Hume,  though  a godly  woman, 
deeply  anxious  for  his  salvation,  must  have  lacked 
the  firmness  and  decision  so  essential  in  family  gov- 
ernment, since  she  afterwards  embraced  the  infidel 
sentiments  of  her  son,  through  his  arguments  and 
importunity.  Of  the  mother  of  the  infamous  Aaron 
Burr,  we  may  not  speak  as  confidently  ; yet  one  fact 
deserves  to  be  noticed.  In  infancy  he  was  brought 
to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  (this  his  mother  relates  in 
a letter  to  her  father.  President  Edwards,)  and  she 
besought  God  with  great  earnestness  and  distress  to 
restore  him  to  health ; but  “ after  a great  struggle  ” 
seemed  to  be  willing  that  he  should  die.  Evidently, 
before  she  thought  herself  resigned  to  the  expected 
bereavement,  there  was  a hard  struggle  in  her  mind, 
and  such  an  importunity  at  the  throne  of  gmce  as 
lack  of  reconciliation  begets.  Might  she  not  have 
been  too  earnest  that  her  own  wiU  should  be  grati- 
fied ? Dr.  Calamy  relates  that  he  once  visited  a cul- 
prit, awaiting  in  his  cell  the  hour  of  execution.  He 
was  accompanied  by  the  prisoner’s  parents,  with 
whom  he  resided.  In  vain  they  exhorted  the  culprit 
son  to  repentance  and  confession.  He  only  replied 
like  a fiend  incarnate,  “ Sir,  I scorn  any  thing  of  this 
nature,  and  would  rather  die.”  With  this  unyielding, 
malignant  spirit  he  went  to  the  scaffold,  and  was 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


55 


executed.  While  his  parent  stood  amazed  at  a 
career  so  strange  and  unaccountable,  he  was  re- 
minded of  a prayer  which  he  offered  for  this  son  when 
brought  nigh  to  the  gi-ave  in  his  infancy.  He  became 
so  importunate  that  his  wife  expostulated  with  him ; 
but,  nevertheless,  this  expression  fell  from  his  hps: 
“ Let  him  prove  what  he  will,  if  he  is  but  spared  I 
shah,  be  satisfied.”  He  could  not  avoid  connecting 
that  petition  with  the  dreadful  end  of  his  son.  We 
speak  not  with  assurance,  but  simply  inquire,  may 
not  the  example  of  Burr  and  his  mother  belong  to 
the  same  class  with  that  cited  by  Dr.  Calamy  ? 

There  may  be  exceptions  to  this  truth ; but  facts 
show  that  there  is  a marked  connection  between  the 
characters  of  men  and  thefi  early  training.  Their 
characters  do  not  generally  belie  parental  influence. 
When  God  deshed  a leader  for  Israel,  “ aU  the  learn- 
ing of  the  Egyptians  ” was  not  enough  for  his  train- 
ing. So  He  sent  him  back  in  a mysterious  way  to 
his  humble  and  devoted  mother.  When  He  wanted 
a Napoleon,  to  sweep  as  a scourge  and  judgment 
over  the  nations,  he  should  be  the  son  of  parents  who 
would  encourage  him  to  play  the  soldier  in  his  child- 
hood. When  the  world  needed  a Doddridge  to  bless 
it  with  his  tongue  and  pen,  God  called  him  from  a 
pious  mother,  who  taught  him  refigiously  from  Scrip- 
ture scenes,  painted  on  the  tiles  of  the  chimney. 
Samuel  was  the  child  of  an  excellent  mother.  The 
parents  of  Isaac  are  of  honorable  mention  upon  the 
sacred  page.  Timothy  is  spoken  of,  as  receiving  ex- 
cellent discipline  at  the  hands  of  “ his  mother  Eunice 
and  his  grandmother  Lois.”  Washington’s  character 
bore  the  impress  of  parental  training ; and  John 


56 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Quincy  Adams  recognized  with  deep  emotion  the 
influence  of  parental  discipline  in  the  formation  of 
his  character. 

Rousseau  was  the  son  of  irresponsible  parents, 
who  neglected  his  early  culture,  and  furnished  him 
with  little  reading  but  fiction.  Robespierre,  an  un- 
principled and  violent  demagogue  of  France,  was  left 
homeless  and  parentless  at  nine  years  of  age,  and, 
of  course,  deprived  of  parental  counsel  from  that 
early  period  of  life.  Byron,  a vile,  surly,  polluted, 
though  gifted  personage,  was  no  worse  than  his 
coarse,  ugly,  and  unmatronly  mother.* 

Regarding  facts  like  the  above,  which  might  be 
indefinitely  multiplied,  we  insist  that  there  is  usually 
an  absolute  connection  between  the  framing  of  chil- 
dren and  their  destinies ; and  that  if  parents  are 
faithful  to  follow  the  divine  direction,  “ train  up  a 
child  in  the  way  he  should  go,”  they  may  certainly 
expect  that,  “when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart 
from  it.” 

“ Had  doting  Priam  checked  his  son’s  desire, 

Troy  had  been  bright  with  fame,  and  not  with  fire.” 

There  may  be  numerous  examples  of  youthful 
recklessness,  where  we  can  trace  no  lack  of  parental 
counsel  after  the  divme  rule ; yet,  if  we  could  have  a 
view  of  the  whole  training  as  it  appears  to  the  eye  of 
God,  we  should  probably  discover  sufficient  reasons 
for  the  failure  of  parental  government.  Doubtless 

* Other  facts  presented  in  Chapter  1.  concerning  the  connec- 
tion of  the  Family  and  Church,  show  the  influence  of  early 
training  upon  the  characters  of  men. 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


57 


the  most  faithful  and  pious  parents,  who  have  shed 
the  tear  of  sadness  over  the  ruin  of  children,  will  dis- 
cover, upon  serious  reflection,  many  defects  in  their 
family  discipline.  It  may  not  be  a wilful  and  delib- 
erate violation  of  duty.  It  may  be  simply  an  error 
of  judgment,  a bare  neglect  amid  a pressure  of  other 
duties.  * Yet  a sin  of  omission  may  be  attended 
with  consequences  as  fatal  as  a sin  of  commission. 
An  error  of  judgment  may  prove  as  disastrous  as 
an  error  of  heart.  It  does  not,  of  course,  equally 
reproach  the  character.  If  “ organic  sins  ” are  dis- 
coverable anywhere,  we  apprehend  it  is  here,  in  this 
parental  relation. 

Parents  may  sometimes  teach,  exhort,  and  pray 
with  aU  the  faithfulness  possible,  and  then  conclude 
that  so  much  is  not  dependent  upon  parental  disci- 
pline after  all,  since  their  children  wander  into  “ by 
and  forbidden  paths.”  But  they  may  have  failed  to 
demand  implicit  obedience,  been  too  indulgent  or  too 
severe,  neglected  to  cultivate  the  tempers  and  habits 
of  then-  children,  or  been  petulant,  wavering,  and 
inconsistent  themselves.  It  is  not  surprising  that  in 
such  circumstances,  religious  training  is  entirely  lost. 
This  ought  they  to  have  done,  without  leaving  the 
other  undone.  Surely  we  should  not  undervalue  the 
force  of  parental  discipline,  so  long  as  omissions  and 
neglects  of  duty  are  so  numerous. 

* We  do  not  deny  that  there  may  he  instances  of  such  filial  de- 
pravity as  resists  the  most  faithful  parental  discipline.  But, 
doubtless,  in  numerous  examples  of  fidelity,  parents  fail  be- 
cause they  are  ignorant  of  mental  and  moral  laws.  We  refer 
those  who  doubt  this  position  to  the  chapter  upon  the  Philos- 
ophy of  Character. 


58 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Also,  when  no  delinquency  can  be  discovered  so 
far  as  discipline  is  practised,  there  may  be  a lack  of 
perseverance.  The  first  wandering  of  a prodigal  son 
does  not  prove  that  parental  discipline  is  a failure. 
He  may  “ come  to  himself,”  far  off  in  the  land  of 
prodigality,  and  return  to  his  father  penitent  and 
submissive.  Amd  this  may  be  the  result  of  parental 
discipline.  Parents  need  to  remember  the  history  of 
Monica.  How  ineffectual,  apparently,  were  her  ef- 
forts to  train  her  son  for  God ! She  saw  him  wax 
worse  and  worse,  until  he  became  licentious,  aban- 
doned and  devdish.  Yet  she  followed  him  with  her 
prayers  and  tears.  Li  Africa  he  could  not  escape 
from  her,  and  he  hastened  to  Italy.  But  to  the  gates 
of  imperial  Rome  the  fond  and  faithful  mother  fol- 
lowed, with  her  supplications.  Away  he  flies  from 
Rome  over  the  Alps,  with  as  much  fear  and  trem- 
bling as  if  escaping  from  a pursuing  conqueror.  But 
the  heart  of  the  doting  parent  rested  upon  the  prom- 
ise of  the  Eternal,  and  she  wrestled  with  the  angel 
of  the  covenant,  until,  at  length,  God  arrested  him 
in  Milan,  and  made  him  a trophy  of  his  grace.  The 
world  knew  him  as  the  gifted  and  excellent  Augustine. 

Such  facts  exhibit  the  transcendent  importance  of 
the  parental  relation.  The  foundation  of  character 
is  laid  at  the  domestic  altar.  The  child  is  the  man 
in  miniature. 

“ Childhood  shows  the  man 
As  morning  shows  the  day.’’  * 

Looks,  words,  demeanor,  example,  precept,  spirit, 
all  impress,  mould,  and  seal.  Most  children  are 


* Milton. 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


59 


like  their  parents  — light,  trifling,  gay  ; giddy  or 
serious,  thoughtful  and  moral.  Hence  the  old 
maxim,  “ be  patient,  and  you  will  have  patient  chil- 
dren.” They  may  differ  in  many  of  the  inferior 
characteristics ; and  there  may  be  marked  exceptions 
to  this  general  rule  ; but  they  are  like  them  in  the 
leading  qualities,  the  rudimentary  elements  of  char- 
acter. It  is  thus  in  opinions,  conversation,  educa- 
tion, and  religion.  If  the  parents  are  coarse  and 
rough  in  conversation,  so  will  be  their  children.  If 
they  are  fretful  and  scolding,  if  they  are  haughty  and 
overbearing,  if  they  are  impure  and  sensual,  so  will 
be  the  children.  A niggardly,  miserly  spirit  often  de- 
scends from  father  to  son  as  by  a law  of  nature. 
Sons  and  daughters  have  not  higher  and  nobler 
aspirations  than  their  parents.  If  the  parents  are 
literary,  the  children  do  not  belie  them.  Even  in 
politics  and  religion,  they  belong  to  the  same  school 
as  the  parents.  We  speak  of  what  is  true,  generally, 
without  denying  that  there  are  numerous  exceptions. 
It  is  traceable  aU  around  us.  We  see  it  in  the  so- 
cial circle,  in  the  school-room,  and  in  the  common- 
wealth. 

But  there  is  a higher  consideration  to  fire  the  hearts 
of  parents  with  a quenchless  zeal,  and  press  them  to 
a faithful  watch.  To  them  God  has  committed  an 
immortal  soul  in  the  beloved  child.  They  have  in 
trust  an  imperishable  mind,  upon  which  they  are 
solemnly  pledged,  by  the  ties  of  nature  if  not  of  re- 
hgion,  to  make  impressions  for  eternity.  It  is  an 
indestructible  tablet  upon  which  they  must  write, 
whether  they  wiU  or  not,  and  the  record  will  survive 
the  dissolution  of  the  world.  A celebrated  artist  of 


60 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


antiquity  spent  two  years  in  painting  a scene,  and, 
being  dissatisfied  with  his  work,  he  destroyed  it,  and 
proceeded  to  the  second  attempt,  when  a friend  ac- 
costed him  with  the  inquiry,  “ why  spend  your  time 
thus  upon  a single  picture  ? ” The  artist  replied, 
“ I paint  for  immortality.”  So  the  parent  with 
greater  emphasis  may  assign  as  the  reason  of  his 
ever-faithful  efforts,  I “ train''  for  immortality.  For 
when  his  tongue  is  palsied  in  death,  and  his  lips  are 
pale  and  speechless  as  Parian  marble,  and  his  heart 
is  pulseless  and  still  aa  clay,  the  soul  of  the  child, 
with  aU  its  energies  and  aspirations,  will  live  on. 
Yea,  when  the  sun  shall  sink  in  night,  the  moon  be 
turned  to  blood,  and  the  “ elements  melt  -ufith  fervent 
heat,”  that  sphit  will  still  live,  a harper  in  heaven,  or 
a sufferer  in  hell. 

“ Cold  in  the  dust  the  perished  heart  may  lie ; 

But  that  which  warmed  it  once,  can  never  die.” 

Here  comes  the  pressure  of  parental  responsibility. 
Here  the  solemn  injunctions  of  Jehovah  fall  upon 
the  ear  as  the  loud  call  for  fidelity.  An  immortal 
spirit  submitted  to  human  hands  and  human  wis- 
dom to  be  trained  for  the  sides ! And  shall  it 
be  decked  with  earth’s  dazzling  finery,  pampered 
with  its  sordid  pleasures,  and  flattered  with  its 
golden  honors,  as  if  this  world  were  its  home,  and 
these  uncertain  possessions  its  only  inheritance  ? 
Let  parents  ponder  the  solemn  charge!  An  im- 
mortal soul  — rare  material  to  be  wrought  by  human 
hands!  A priceless  jewel!  Trim  not  the  casket 
and  neglect  the  gem.  By  counsel,  Hgilance,  and 
prayer,  train  the  unfolding  spirit  for  usefulness  and 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


61 


glory.  You  cannot  commit  the  work  to  teacher, 
minister,  or  triend,  and  avoid  the  fearful  responsibil- 
ity. Nothing  can  supply  the  place  of  parental  influ- 
ence, nothing  atone  for  parental  neglect.  “ Train  up 
a child  in  the  way  he  should  go  ” is  the  mandate, 
not  to  others,  but  to  yourselves. 

Hear  the  words  of  the  Lord  : “ The  words  which 
I command  thee  this  day  shall  be  in  thine  heart. 
And  thou  shalt  teach  them  dihgently  unto  thy 
children,  and  shalt  talk  of  them  when  thou  sittest 
in  thine  house,  and  when  thou  walkest  by  the  way, 
and  when  thou  best  down,  and  when  thou  risest  up. 
And  thou  shalt  bind  them  for  a sign  upon  thine 
hand,  and  they  shall  be  as  frontlets  between  thine 
eyes.  And  thou  shalt  write  them  upon  the  posts  of 
thine  house,  and  on  thy  gates.” 

Say  not  that  children  should  be  left  to  their  own 
discretion  in  religious  things,  so  long  as  this  statute 
stands  upon  the  sacred  record.  For  it  makes  the 
responsibility  of  their  religious  culture  yours.  Re- 
ligion is  the  first  and  not  the  secondary  concern 
of  the  household.  It  is  to  appear  as  “ a sign  ” in 
your  habitations.  It  is  to  be  seen  as  “ frontlets  ” on 
your  brows.  Its  commandments  are  to  be  inscribed 
upon  the  very  “ posts  ” of  your  houses.  So  marked, 
so  clear,  so  undoubted,  must  be  the  evidence  that 
children  are  instructed  religiously  in  your  dwellings. 
There  must  be  no  mistake.  Neighbors  must  not  be 
in  doubt  as  they  visit  you.  The  paintings  upon 
the  walls,  the  ornaments  upon  the  doors,  must  not 
be  more  conspicuous  than  the  evidence  that  you 
“ command  your  children  to  observe  to  do  all  the 
words  of  this  law.”  It  is  not  a random  precept,  a 

6 


62 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


sprinkling  of  moral  instruction,  a little  religion  and 
much  worldly  counsel ; it  is  “ training,”  daily,  hourly 
discipline  — teaching,  watching,  guiding,  command- 
ing — unwearied,  thorough,  persevering  schooling  in 
the  essentials  of  religion.  They  are  not  to  read  or 
neglect  the  Bible,  attend  upon  public  worship,  or 
ramble  in  the  fields,  go  to  the  Sabbath  school,  or 
refuse,  just  as  they  please.  You  are  to  train  them 
“ in  the  way  they  should  go ; ” and  this  is  impossible 
unless  you  direct  what  they  shall  read,  when  and 
where  they  shall  worship,  with  whom  associate, 
and  what  they  are  to  believe.  You  cannot  guilt- 
lessly leave  your  children  to  their  own  discretion  in 
religion.  Command  them  to  walk  m “ wisdom’s 
ways,”  and  they  may  be  saved  in  heaven.  Leave 
them  to  their  own  corrupt  indurations,  and  they  will 
sink  to  despair. 

But  I hear  one  say,  “ I do  not  profess  to  be  rehg- 
ious ; I have  no  hope  in  Christ,  no  altar  at  home,  and 
no  heart  to  give  rehgious  instruction.  Do  the  same 
obhgations  rest  upon  me  as  upon  the  Christian  ? ” 
Certainly  they  do.  The  same  commandments  are 
given  to  every  parent  whether  religious  or  not.  If 
not  religious  at  present,  the  first  duty  is  to  obey  the 
command,  “ son,  give  me  thine  heart,”  that  you  may 
then  obey  that  other  command,  “ Train  up  a child  in 
the  way  he  should  go.”  But  is  it  true  that  you  have 
no  God  at  home  ? that  month  after  month,  and  year 
after  year,  there  are  no  lessons  imparted  in  your 
family  which  recognize  the  existence  of  God  and 
human  accountabfiity  ? Can  it  be  true,  that  in  this 
enlightened  land  there  are  households  really  ^\ithout 
a God  ? Go  to  benighted  India,  and  learn  that  every 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


63 


family  has  its  household  god.  To  the  dumb  and 
sightless  deity  every  member  is  taught  to  bow  and 
pay  sincere  devotion.  Even  the  lisping  child  is 
taught  to  call  upon  it,  and  grow  up  to  be  a daily, 
earnest  worshipper  of  the  idol-god.  What  a lesson 
is  here  of  the  permanency  of  early  rehgious  impres- 
sions, and  the  force  of  parental  influence  in  mould- 
ing the  youthful  mind ! Children  effectually  taught, 
with  scarcely  one  exception,  to  pay  their  vows  to  a 
block  of  wood  or  stone,  with  as  much  earnestness 
and  sincerity,  as  the  most  devoted  Christian  wor- 
ships the  living  God ! Well  may  you,  unbelieving 
parents,  revolve  this  fact.  Have  you  no  God  at 
home  ? This  you  will  not  admit.  You  profess  to 
believe  in  the  existence  and  reign  of  the  Lord 
Almighty.  But  in  your  household  you  never  call 
upon  Him,  or  teach  your  children  to  remember  or 
respect  Him.  From  all  they  witness  in  the  domestic 
circle,  that  would  scarcely  learn  that  God  exists. 
And  yet,  you  say  that  Jehovah  is  your  God.  Oh, 
be  not  less  mindful  in  the  family  of  the  God  you 
recognize,  than  is  the  benighted  pagan  of  his  wooden 
or  brazen  deity ! 

Imagination  delights  to  dwell  upon  the  blissful 
scene  that  would  be  presented  if  all  parents  from  this 
hour  should  obey  the  injunction,  “ Train  up  a child 
in  the  way  he  should  go.”  The  haunts  of  vice 
would  be  comparatively  forsaken.  Many  of  the 
foulest  crimes  would  be  stricken  from  the  calendar 
of  courts.  HaUs  of  pleasure  would  welcome  asso- 
ciations for  intellectual  and  Christian  improvement. 
Midnight  carousals,  and  bacchanalian  revels  of  every 
sort,  would  fast  disappear.  God’s  people  would 


64 


LIPE  AT  THE  FTRESEDE. 


cease  to  weep  over  the  desolations  of  his  heritage. 
The  Spirit  would  descend  upon  the  churches  hke 
rain  upon  the  new-mown  grass.  Families  would 
rejoice  to  see  the  salvation  of  God.  And  faith 
would  look  vidth  clearer  vision  to  behold  “ the  ran- 
somed of  the  Lord  return  and  come  to  Zion  with 
songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads.” 

That  the  age  presents  an  alarming  recklessness  in 
respect  to  the  discipline  of  children  is  too  evident  to 
admit  of  dispute.  How  little  apparent  responsi- 
bility ! How  small  a trust  with  multitudes  is  the 
gift  of  children ! What  altercations,  wranglings,  and 
offences  are  tolerated  in  numerous  famdies  ! In  how 
many  do  childi’en  rule,  instead  of  the  parents  ! In 
how  many  do  the  fathers  consult,  and  not  command 
their  sons  ! How  few  heads  of  households  seriously 
inquire,  how  they  must  rule  for  the  future  good  of 
their  children  ! In  how  many  do  sons  and  daughters 
have  their  own  way  in  respect  to  dress,  pleasure,  as- 
sociations, and  rehgious  things ! Even  in  profess- 
edly rehgious  families,  how  httle  Christian  instruc- 
tion ! How  many  of  the  children  do  as  they  please 
about  observing  the  Sabbath,  attending  the  Sabbath 
school,  and  reading  the  Scriptures ! How  few  of 
them  are  fmaiished  with  rehgious  books  for  daily 
reading ! The  excuse  may  be  the  necessary  expense. 
But  then,  are  not  the  sons  fornished  with  ample 
funds  for  the  ride,  frohc,  and  muster  ? Half  the  sum 
which  the  sons  of  some  pious  parents  expend  for 
pleasure  would  supply  them  constantly  with  the 
most  valuable  books.  It  would  feed  their  minds  with 
useful  knowledge,  and  their  souls  with  the  bread  of 
life.  Li  how  many  Chiistian  famihes  is  the  chief 


THE  PAEBNTAL  KBLATION. 


65 


attention  given  to  style,  dress,  fashion,  and  things 
which  merely  add  to  appearances ! In  how  many 
might  a visitor  tarry  for  a whole  week,  amid  such 
displays  of  worldly  counsels  to  children,  as  would 
indicate  that  the  body  and  its  earthly  inheritance 
were  of  more  importance  than  the  soul  and  eternity  ? 
Through  an  inexcusable  lack  of  discipline,  hosts  of 
sons  and  daughters  are  cast  out  upon  the  turbulent 
bosom  of  society  every  year,  without  even  a poor 
apology  for  that  protection,  which  is  symbolized  in 
the  ancient  “ ark  of  buhushes.” 

Contrast  with  this  motive,  which  ought  to  incite 
parents  to  fidehty,  some  of  the  prevalent  motives  by 
which  they  are  actuated. 

Sons  are  often  trained  for  the  professions  or  mer- 
cantile business,  without  any  regard  to  usefulness,  or 
any  reference  to  the  claims  of  God.  Parents  have  a 
desirable  calling  in  view,  and  with  great  interest 
they  anticipate  the  day  when  then-  son  will  enter  it. 
Their  plans  and  purposes,  the  means  of  education 
and  general  discipline,  have  in  view  that  calling  in 
its  earthly  relations  alone.  Perhaps  he  is  destined 
for  the  legal  profession,  and  they  are  almost  impa- 
tient for  the  time  when  he  will  rank  high  upon  the 
roll  of  fame.  Their  joy  wUl  be  full  when  they  be- 
come witnesses  to  his  eloquence  at  the  bar.  No 
pains  or  expense  are  spared  to  rear  him  for  the 
desired  vocation.  And  thus  it  is  through  all  the 
trades  and  professions  of  men,  a multitude  of  parents 
think  not  of  rearing  children  “ in  the  way  they  should 
go ; ” but  to  be  pleasantly  and  honorably  settled  in 
some  calling  of  life. 

To  appear  well  in  refined  society  is  sometimes  the 
6* 


66 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


highest  aim  of  parental  discipline.  Some  parents 
greatly  abhor  the  unpolished  mien,  untidy  apparel, 
and  unwinning  physiognomy,  even  though  they  con- 
ceal virtues  of  priceless  worth.  Many  a mother  pre- 
fers to  see  her  daughter  wedded  to  a rich  and  fash- 
ionable young  man,  moving  in  circles  of  high  life, 
even  though  he  is  mentally  and  morally  deficient, 
rather  than  to  one  of  ungraceful  air,  and  scanty  means, 
though  rich  in  thought  and  sterling  virtues.  Masters 
of  music  and  dancing,  and  mistresses  of  mantua- 
making  and  toileting,  are  employed  to  educate 
daughters,  if  not  sons,  “to  show  off”  in  what  is  re- 
garded as  refined  society.  Were  a visitor  from 
another  world  to  spend  a week  in  some  families  on 
earth,  he  would  scarcely  think,  amid  the  perpetual 
effort  at  display,  that  daughters  possess  souls.  How 
many  parents  might  be  addressed  by  then  dying 
children,  in  words  which  were  actually  uttered  by 
a dying  daughter  to  her  mother.  “ These,”  (point- 
ing to  her  costly  apparel,  which  she  requested  to  be 
brought  to  her  bedside,)  “ these  have  ruined  me,” 
said  she.  “ You  never  taught  me  that  I must  die. 
You  taught  me  that  my  errand  into  this  world  was 
to  be  gay  and  dressy,  and  to  enjoy  the  vanities  of 
life.  What  could  you  mean  ? You  know  I must 
die  and  go  to  the  judgment.  You  never  told  me  to 
read  the  Bible,  or  to  go  to  church  unless  to  make 
a display  of  some  new  finery.  Mother,  you  have 
ruined  me.  Take  them  away  as  a sad  remembrancer 
of  your  sin  and  my  sad  end.” 

Dr.  Cheever  has  beautifully  said,  “ A florist  will  tell 
you  that  if  you  paint  the  flower-pot  that  contains 
a favorite,  beautiful,  fragrant  flower,  the  plant  will 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


67 


wither,  and  perhaps  its  blossom  will  die.  You  shut 
out  the  air  and  moisture  from  passing  through  the 
earth  to  the  roots,  and  your  paint  itself  is  poisonous. 
Just  so,  mere  external  cultivation,  superficial,  worldly 
accomplishment,  or  a too  exclusive  anxiety  and  re- 
gard for  that,  injures  the  soul.  The  vase  may  be 
ever  so  beautifully  ornamented,  but  if  you  deny  the 
water  of  life  to  the  flower,  it  must  die.” 

Some  parental  discipline  may  be  described  in 
three  short  words,  to  be  rich.  It  is  not  so  much  a 
pure  and  taintless  example,  nor  a fund  of  wholesome 
counsel,  which  is  made  the  ruling  object  of  Life,  as  a 
large  pecuniary  inheritance.  It  is  not  established 
principles,  strict  integrity,  pure  aspirations,  and 
shining  virtues,  so  much  as  tact  at  accumulation, 
energy  and  enterprise  in  worldly  business,  for  which 
some  parents  discipline  their  children.  Shrewdness 
at  striking  a bargain,  foresight  and  sharpness  to 
anticipate  fluctuations  and  discover  fraud,  are  often 
lessons  to  be  learned  before  honesty  and  truth. 
Even  the  little  urchin,  too  young  to  number  his 
coppers,  is  instructed  to  hoard,  with  a closeness  that 
equals  the  miser’s  calculation.  He  has  his  little 
bank,  which  is  provided  with  a place  for  deposit,  but 
none  for  discount,  — a place  for  putting  in,  but  none 
for  taking  out.  There  he  is  taught  to  deposit  all  he 
has,  and  keep  all  he  can  get.  How  few  parents 
counsel  their  children  to  give ! It  is  “ lay  up,” 
“ hoard,”  “ keep,”  “ provide  for  a rainy  day,  sickness, 
or  age.”  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  treasuries  of 
our  benevolent  societies,  and  aU  other  honorable 
societies,  run  low ! No  wonder  children  grow  up  -to 
be  selfish,  and  have  to  be  reasoned  with,  persuaded. 


68 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


and  urged  to  give,  when  advanced  to  manhood  and 
womanhood,  and  even  when  professing  to  have  the 
grace  of  God  in  their  hearts ! Constantine  em- 
ployed the  hand  of  his  son,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to 
write,  in  signing  pardons,  and  also  conveyed  through 
his  mouth  all  the  favors  he  granted.  It  was  done  to 
discipline  him  in  deeds  of  charity.  It  was  a truthful 
and  noble  recognition  of  the  importance  and  power 
of  the  early  culture  which  we  advocate.  It  will 
prove  true  in  nine  tenths  of  all  the  cases,  that  train- 
ing children  to  hoard  will  make  them  stingy  and 
niggardly  in  age,  and  blind  them  to  personal  duty 
in  a world’s  salvation.  On  the  other  hand,  training 
them  to  sympathize  with  the  benighted  and  suffering, 
and  to  contribute  to  the  benevolent  societies  which 
contemplate  their  relief,  will  cultivate  the- tender  sen- 
sibilities, and  make  them  generous,  kind,  and  noble 
in  all  their  career. 

To  suffer  the  policy,  expressed  in  the  phrase  to  be 
rich^  to  give  character  to  parental  discipline,  is  unwise 
and  dangerous;  and  it  perils  the  virtue,  usefulness, 
and  happiness  of  the  young.  Those  parents  are 
wisest  who  prefer  at  death  to  leave  to  their  children 
the  benefits  of  a healthful  training,  rather  than  large 
possessions.  A five  dollar  bill  of  the  Fulton  Bank 
passed  through  the  hand  of  the  editor  of  the  New 
York  Journal  of  Commerce,  tw'O  years  since,  with 
the  following  words  WTitten  upon  the  back  of  it: 
“ This  is  the  last  of  $3,000  left  to  me  by  my  mother, 
on  the  27th  day  of  August,  1846.  Would  to  God 
that  she  had  never  left  it  to  me,  and  that  I had  been 
learned  to  work  and  earn  my  living.  I should  not 
be  now  what  I am.”  The  fact  is  a commentary 


THE  PAKENTAL  RELATIOUT. 


69 


upon  the  unwise  and  dangerous  policy  of  hoarding' 
money  for  children. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Duff  declares,  “ I am  prepared  to 
say,  that,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  hoards  of  ac- 
cumulated money  given  to  children,  by  whom  they 
were  never  earned,  and  who  acquired  no  habits  of 
industry,  or  thrift,  or  laboriousness,  prove,  in  point 
of  fact,  rather  a curse  than  a blessing.” 

Then,  how  ignoble  the  object,  beside  the  generous 
Christian  training  which  God  requires  at  the  hand 
of  every  parent ! Wealth  deserves  not  to  be  men-' 
tioned  with  vhtue  and  usefulness.  It  is  worthless 
as  dust,  beside  the  riches  of  a good  name,  and  a title 
to  the  favor  of  God.  Grovelling  and  sensual  indeed 
must  be  that  parent,  who  would  not  prefer  that  his 
son  should  walk  safely  and  surely  in  “ wisdom’s 
ways,”  rather  than  be  imperilled  at  every  step  by  his 
inheritance  of  gold.  That  eminent  statesman  and 
patriot,  Patrick  Henry,  left  this  passage  in  his  will : 

“ I have  now  disposed  of  aU  my  property  to  my 
family : there  is  one  thing  more  I wish  I could  give 
them,  and  that  is,  the  Christian  Rehgion.  K they 
had  that,  and  I had  not  given  them  one  shilling,  they 
would  be  rich ; and  if  they  have  not  that,  and  I had 
given  them  all  the  worlds  &ey  would  be  poor.’^ 

A single  sentence  which  has  survived  the  waste 
of  generations,  and  now  collated  with  the  proverbs 
of  the  past,  deserves  to  be  treasmred  by  every  parent : 

“ Gold  goes  in  at  every  gate,  except  heaven’s.” 

We  have  seen  that  the  most  devoted  parents 
sometimes  fail  of  success  in  parental  discipline. 
One  reason  may  be  found  in  a failure  to  appreciate 
the  importance  of  first  impressions.  It  is  generally 


70 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


regarded  of  little  importance,  and  perhaps  entirely 
useless,  to  train  the  child  to  definite  habits.*  The 
mother  trains  the  cat  and  dog  to  know  their  places, 
to  be  neat  and  affectionate,  and  that  habitually;  but 
thinks  it  useless  to  teach  the  little  son  as  much. 

First  impressions  are  too  lightly  estimated.  Their 
force,  in  determining  character  and  deciding  destiny, 
is  altogether  underrated.  They  often  survive  the 
most  impressive  lessons  of  age,  and  inweave  and 
immingle  themselves  into  all  the  plans  and  purposes 
of  life. 

A gentleman,  travelling  in  a destitute  part  of  Ver- 
mont, tarried  one  night  with  a family,  from  whom  he 
received  the  following  details.  They  had  three  du- 
tiful and  affectionate  sons,  upon  whom  they  ex- 
pected to  lean  when  descending  the  vale  of  life. 
But  aU  of  them,  even  in  boyhood,  imbibed  a taste 
for  a seafaring  life,  and  when  old  enough  to  go  on 
board  a vessel,  they  were  determined  to  become 
mariners.  The  persuasions  and  entreaties  of  par- 
ents wrought  no  change  ^n  their  determinations,  and 
at  length  they  bade  adieu  to  home,  and  committed 
themselves  to  the  treacherous  deep.  It  was  strange 
and  unaecountable  to  the  afflicted  parents.  For 
their  habitation  was  far  apart  from  the  ocean,  their 
sons  had  never  seen  even  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic, 
nor  been  on  board  a ship.  “ How  then,”  inquired 
the  disappointed  father,  “ did  they  imbibe  a taste  for 
a life  on  the  seas  ? ” The  traveller,  wfflose  eye  had 
been  surveying  a large  painting  of  a full-rigged 
vessel  upon  the  wall,  sailing  swan-like  upon  the 


* See  Chapter  on  Philoso23hy  of  Character. 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


71 


silver  tide,  pointed  to  it,  saying,  “ there  you.  see  the 
reason.”  It  was  the  first  time  they  ever  had  a view 
of  the  importance  of  first  impressions.  From  early 
childhood  those  sons  had  been  accustomed  to  gaze 
upon  that  gallant  vessel  painted  upon  a stormless 
sea,  and  the  sight  gave  them  rapturous  views  of  the 
sailor’s  life.  It  settled  their  career,  and  decided  their 
earthly,  if  not  their  eternal  destiny. 

History  abounds  with  similar  facts.  Sir  Robert 
Peel’s  father  determined,  in  the  infancy  of  his  son, 
to  rear  him  expressly  for  the  House  of  Commons. 
He  would  place  him  upon  a table  when  a child,  and 
promise  him  a reward  if  he  would  make  a speech. 
Stimulated  by  the  applauses  which  were  meted  out 
to  him,  he  made  such  progress  that  when  eight  years 
of  age  he  would  address  a company  with  considera- 
ble eloquence.  As  he  advanced  in  years,  his  father 
accustomed  him  to  repeat  every  Sabbath,  as  well  as 
he  was  able,  the  sermon  to  which  he  had  listened. 
Doubtless  this  early  training  had  much  to  do  with 
his  eloquence  in  after-life,  and  his  wonderful  power 
in  remembering  the  whole  speech  of  an  opponent,  so 
as  accurately  to  recite  it. 

Linnaeus  was  the  most  distinguished  of  modern 
naturahsts.  His  father  was  a poor  Swedish  clergy- 
man, and  was  accustomed  to  take  him  from  earliest 
childhood  with  him  into  an  extensive  flower-garden 
which  he  cultivated.  There  he  imbibed  an  acute 
taste  for  every  variety  of  plants,  as  he  was  reared  to 
understand  their  names  and  properties.  Probably 
these  first  impressions  determined  his  character  as  a 
naturalist. 

The  early  training  of  Byron  and  Scott  materially 


72 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


differed.  Both  of  them  were  deformed.  Byron’s 
mother  was  a rash  and  heartless  woman,  with  no 
sense  of  responsibility,  and  no  special  concern  for 
her  son’s  welfare.  An  inconsiderate  and  wicked  flhig 
at  him,  on  one  occasion,  about  his  club  foot,  caused 
him  to  regard  her  with  utter  contempt.  He  grew 
up  to  hate  her,  and  carried  through  life  the  unhappy 
disposition  which  she  so  essentially  developed.  On 
the  other  hand,  Scott  was  early  left  an  orphan,  and 
w^as  placed  under  the  care  of  a maiden  aunt,  a 
wmman  well  suited  to  ffU.  the  place  of  his  departed 
mother.  For  his  health,  she  rode  with  him  daily 
over  the  most  charming  and  romantic  portions  of 
the  country,  and  brought  his  mind  into  sw'eet  famil- 
iarity with  the  works  of  nature,  and  through  them 
with  nature’s  God.  In  this  way  w'as  probably  devel- 
oped that  wmming  temper  for  wiiich  he  was  so  much 
distinguished  ; and  in  those  daily  rides  it  is  supposed 
he  caught  the  spirit  of  poesy  from  the  charming 
scenery  spread  out  to  his  viewL  The  two  examples 
present  a striking  contrast,  — the  results  of  first  im- 
pressions widely  at  variance. 

Why,  then,  are  not  aU  impressions,  mental  and 
moral,  more  or  less  important  in  their  relations  to 
character  and  destiny  ? Why  may  not  the  wfise  and 
judicious  counsels  of  parents  impress  the  heart  as 
deeply  as  some  tangible  object  upon  which  the  vis- 
ion may  be  fixed  ? Why  does  not  a continuous 
religious  training  for  months  and  years,  as  really  tend 
to  determine  the  life  in  virtue,  as  a similar  secular 
training  does  for  a definite  profession  ? If  the  daily 
view  of  a picture  for  successive  years  wfiU  decide  the 
taste  of  a lad  for  the  seas,  then  wdiy  may  not  a view’- 


THE  PAKEITTAL  RELATION. 


73 


of  the  cross  of  Christ,  intelligently  and  repeatedly 
presented,  with  the  divine  blessing,  create  within  him 
a love  for  the  truth  ? If  familiarity  vdth  the  flowers 
in  a beautiful  garden  wiU  create  and  foster  a love  for 
botanical  science,  why  may  not  parents,  through  the 
aids  of  the  Spirit,  enamomr  their  children  by  leading 
them  among  the  flowers  of  virtue,  and  rehearsing  to 
them  the  glories  that  wait  upon  the  graces  of  relig- 
ion ? If  an  humble  gardener  can  thus  rear  a Lin- 
naeus, why  may  not  an  humble  Christian  rear  a 
Brainerd  ? K a rething  and  affectionate  female  can 
educate  a Scott,  why  may  not  the  faithful,  praying 
parent  rear  an  Edwards  or  a Payson  ? 

The  opinion  is  too  prevalent,  that  little  children 
are  unable  to  comprehend  that  kind  of  moral  and 
religious  instruction  to  which  reference  is  had,  — that 
their  reasoning  faculties  are  not  fully  developed  to 
derive  conclusions  from  any  data  whatever.  The 
opinion  is  a fatal  mistake,  and  is  evidence  that  the 
operations  of  the  mind  in  childhood  are  not  carefully 
studied.  For  example,  a lad,  in  company  with  his 
parents,  spent  a summer’s  day  at  the  house  of  the 
author  in  the  country.  Soon  after  his  arrival,  he 
began  to  make  inquiries  about  my  horse.  Being 
assured  that  I did  not  keep  a horse,  he  insisted  that 
this  could  not  be,  because  I had  a barn.  Barns  are 
made  for  horses,  therefore,  he  inferred,  there  must 
be  a horse  where  there  is  a barn.  He  was,  however, 
made  quite  satisfied  that  some  persons  who  do  not 
possess  a horse,  own  a barn.  In  a short  time  the  lad 
was  missing,  but  soon  he  came  rushing  into  the 
house,  under  great  excitement,  declaring  to  his  father 
that  I did  keep  a horse.  “ Have  you  seen  it,  my 
7 


74 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


son  ? ” inquired  the  father.  “ No,  sir ! I suppose 
some  one  has  driven  him  away,”  rephed  the  boy. 
“ But  what  new  evidence  have  you,”  I inquired, 
“ that  I keep  a horse  ? ” “I  have  been  into  the 
barn,”  he  said,  “ and  seen  hay  and  grain  there,  and 
some  things  they  brush  horses  vdth,”  (meaning  the 
brush  and  currycomb).  This  was  conclusive  ew- 
dence  to  his  mind.  The  barn,  hay,  grain,  and  curry- 
comb were  facts,  from  which  he  derived  the  conclu- 
sion, there  must  be  a horse.  The  reasoning  powers 
of  an  adult  were  never  taxed  more  clearly  than  Avere 
the  boy’s  in  this  instance.  His  conclusion  was  a 
logical  deduction  from  “ fixed  facts,”  or  estabhshed 
premises.  It  is  an  illustration  of  the  process  of  rea- 
soning, which  even  children  will  pursue. 

Dr.  Beattie  endeavored  to  impress  upon  the  mind 
of  his  son  the  truth  that  God  made  him,  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner.  He  went  into  the  garden  in  the 
spring,  when  the  ground  was  meUow,  and  hi  one  cor- 
ner he  wrote  in  the  mould  with  his  finger,  the  ini- 
tials of  his  son’s  name.  In  the  furrows  he  sowed 
garden  cresses,  and  carefully  covered  them.  Ten 
days  after,  his  little  son  came  running  to  him  to  teU 
him  that  his  name  wms  growing  in  the  garden.  The 
doctor  appeared  very  hicredulous,  but  finally  con- 
sented to  go  and  see.  “ Sure  enough,”  said  he,  on 
approaching  the  spot,  “ your  name  is  growing  here  ; 
but  then,  what  is  there  in  this  ivorthv  of  notice  ? Is 
it  not  mere  chance  ? ” And  he  turned  and  went 
away.  His  son  followed  after  him  hastily,  saying, 
as  he  went,  “ It^ cannot  have  happened  by  chance ; 
somebody  must  have  contrived  matters  so  as  to  pro- 
duce it.”  “ So  you  tliiiik,”  replied  the  Doctor,  ‘‘  that 


THE  PAKENTAL  BELATIOH. 


75 


what  appears  as  the  letters  of  your  name  cannot  be 
by  chance  ? ” “ Yes,”  said  he  with  firmness,  “ I think 
so.”  “ Look  at  yourself,”  added  his  father,  “ and  con- 
sider your  hands  and  your  fingers,  your  legs  and  feet, 
and  other  limbs  ; are  they  not  regular  in  their  appear- 
ance, and  useful  to  you  1 ” He  replied  in  the  affirm- 
ative, “ Come  you  then  hither  by  chance  ? ” said 
the  father.  “ No,”  the  boy  replied,  “ that  cannot  be  ; 
something  must  have  made  me.”  Here  was  clear, 
conclusive  reasoning,  — such  logic  as  might  put  to 
shame  many  men  who  have  lived  half  a century 
without  perceiving  the  beautiful  evidence  within 
themselves  of  the  existence  of  a Divine  Being. 

It  is  of  great  importance  to  impress  this  one  idea 
upon  the  infantile  mind.  Impress  the  idea  of  God, 
as  our  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Benefactor,  upon  the 
young  heart,  and  here  is  the  basis  of  personal  ac- 
countability, outgushing  gratitude,  repentance,  and 
faith.  Let  this  idea  possess  the  mind,  and  the  child, 
wandering  wheresoever  he  may  with  advancing  years, 
has  in  this  a guardian  angel.  If  he  strays  away 
into  the  paths  of  vice,  this  isolated  sentiment  may 
provoke  the  conscience  to  administer  instant  and 
fearful  rebuke.  So  long  as  his  thoughts  centre  upon 
the  truth  of  a reigmng,  all-seeing  God,  the  silken 
bands  of  restraint  are  thrown  around  him  amid  temp- 
tations, and  there  is  hope  of  his  recovery.  But  when 
this  fundamental  truth  is  effaced  from  the  heart,  and 
the  child  advances  to  youth,  and  from  youth  to  man- 
hood, as  if  no  God  were  in  the  heavens,  effect  wIU 

not  follow  cause,  if  woe  does  not  betide  him. 

' « 

Parents  often  believe  that  a child’s  time  is  worth- 
less. If  the  value  of  time  is  to  be  estimated  by  dol- 


76 


LIFE  AT  THE  PIRESIDE. 


lars  and  cents,  they  may  be  right.  But  if  the  fore- 
going sentiments  are  true,  as  much,  and  possibly 
more  value  should  be  attached  to  the  time  of  the 
child  than  to  that  of  the  man.  For  enough  has 
been  said,  to  show  that  consequences  of  transcen- 
dent interest  result  from  the  training  in  childhood. 
If  “ the  child  is  father  of  the  man,”  as  he  most  assur- 
edly is,  then  time  is  more  valuable  to  the  little  lad 
than  to  the  son  in  the  prime  of  manhood.  Here  the 
soil  is  fmrowed,  and  the  seed  sown.  Succeeding 
seasons  only  waft  the  gales,  sprinkle  the  showers, 
and  pour  the  sunbeams,  which  cause  it  to  spring 
forth,  bud  and  blossom  and  ripen  into  a harvest  of 
wheat  or  cockle  in  meridian  life. 

Parental  government  deserves  to  be  particularly 
noticed.  We  mean  by  this,  the  means  adopted  by 
parents  to  secure,  at  all  times,  imphcit  obedience. 
There  are  two  prevailing  modes  of  administering 
government  in  families,  both  of  which  are  defective. 
One  is,  to  secure  obedience  by  hope  of  reward  ; and 
the  other,  by  fear  of  consequences.  Both  tend  to 
mar  the  moral’ character. 

Parents,  also,  are  prompted  to  demand  submission 
by  impulse  and  principle.  The  first  rules  in  the  heat 
of  passion ; the  second  in  the  calm  of  reason  and 
consideration.  The  first  is  low,  debasing,  and  un- 
natural. The  second  is  elevating,  unwavering,  and 
glorious.  The  first  causes  children  to  deprecate  pa- 
rental government,  and  leaves  them  without  respect 
for  its  authority  and  sanctions.  The  second  leads 
them  to  reverence  its  most  rigid  requisitions,  and  to 
yield  a cheerful  obedience. 

There  are,  also,  three  w^ays  in  w'hich  parental  gov- 


THE  PABENTAL  RELATION. 


77 


crnment  spoils  children.  The  first  is  by  love,  as  in 
the  instance  of  Eli.  The  Elis  are  not  much  in  the 
habit  of  sounding  the  word,  no  ! It  is  with  them,  “ why 
do  ye  such  things  ? Nay,  my  sons ; for  it  is  no  good 
report  that  I hear.”  There  is  no  tone  of  authority  in 
it.  It  is  a kind  of  loving  consultation,  rather  than 
wise  and  afl'ectionate  commandment.  Love  may 
blind  the  mind  to  wisdom  and  duty  as  effectually 
as  wanton  hatred.  If  a father  disciplines  his  son 
into  a Hophni  or  Phineas,  it  is  of  very  little  conse-^ 
quence  whether  he  does  it  by  love  or  hatred.  Which 
will  ruin  by  the  speediest  process,  and  develop  the 
ugliest  deformities,  is  not  easily  determined.  I have 
heard  an  inconsiderate  mother  counsel  the  child  to 
sti'ike  the  plaything  by  which  he  was  injured.  It  is 
not  unusual  for  chairs  and  tables  to  be  struck  by 
parental  counsel.  The  counsel  is  given  in  love.  But 
if  the  venom  of  dislike  ranlded  in  a parent’s  heart, 
and  he  should  display  it  to  awaken  a similar  passion 
in  the  breast  of  his  child,  he  would  not  more  success- 
fully make  him  one  of  the  “ baser  sort,”  than  he 
does  by  this  way  of  love.  The  second  mode  of 
inflicting  injury  upon  children  is  by  severity,  as 
in  the  instance  of  Byron’s  mother.  The  “ tender 
mercies  ” of  some  parental  disciphne  are  cruel.  The 
young  and  tender  affections,  starting  forth  like  ten- 
drils from  the  vine  in  early  spring,  are  often  crushed. 
Home  is  hated,  and  a roving  disposition  begotten. 
Childhood  grows  up  unlovely  beneath  such  house- 
hold despotism.  The  thud  way,  in  which  similar 
ruin  is  wrought,  is  by  love  and  severity  both.  It  is 
very  difficult  to  rise  above  the  control  of  feeling, 
which  causes  parents  to  be  exceedingly  tender  to-day, 
7* 


78 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


and  equally  severe  to-morrow.  It  is  not  altogether 
new  for  children  to  be  punished  for  deeds  to-day, 
which  go  unpunished  to-morrow.  It  were  nothing 
“ new  under  the  sun,”  for  love’s  fairest  promise  to  be 
unfulfilled  in  some  moment  of  petulance,  or  for  se- 
verity’s unqualified  threat  to  be  unexecuted,  when 
love  becomes  ascendant.  Li  some  families  it  is 
“ darfing  ” and  “ dunce,”  “ precious  ” and  “ plagues,” 
“ beauty  ” and  “ blockhead,”  candy  and  cudgel,  in 
strange  and  ridiculous  alternation.  Such  govern- 
ment must  leave  its  impress  in  foul  blotches  and 
plague-spots  upon  the  character  of  the  governed. 

The  more  closely  parental  government  approxi- 
mates to  perfection,  the  more  it  will  harmonize  with 
the  government  of  God.  In  other  words,  the  best 
example  of  the  parental  is  the  most  like  the  Divine 
government.  In  the  latter,  mercy  and  justice  hap- 
pily commingle.  Justice  is  tempered  by  mercy,  and 
mercy  is  regulated  by  justice.  Both  blend  in  sweet 
and  harmonious  exercise ; and  sooner  will  heaven  and 
earth  pass  away,  than  Divine  love  be  sacrificed  to 
justice,  or  justice  to  love.  Not  one  jot  or  tittle  of 
either  will  fad,  since  both,  in  their  most  delightfid 
union,  are  necessary  to  sustain  the  Divine  authority. 
That  must  be  sustained  at  all  hazards,  else  the  Di- 
vine Government  becomes  a farce,  even  more  the 
subject  of  jest  and  mockery,  than  the  causeless  oc- 
currences of  chance.  So,  in  the  complete  govern- 
ment of  the  household,  every  exhibition  of  love  or 
severity  goes  to  maintain  a dignified  and  necessary 
authority.  This  cannot  be  compromised  without 
entailing  iiTetrievable  woes  upon  a plastic  posterity. 
If  love,  as  a rosy-weathed  pillar  can  sustain  the 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


79 


delicate  fabric  of  family  government,  so  much  the 
more  attractive  may  the  structure  appear,  in  its 
bright  and  tasteful  garniture.  But  if  mercy  be  not 
sufficient  to  sustain  a dignified  authority,  it  were 
better  that  sharp  and  barbed  severities,  concealed  by 
the  wing  of  love,  should  come  in  with  their  needful 
force.  That  parental  government  which  lacks  au- 
thority is  no  government  at  aU.  And  if  it  be  not 
such  authority  as  secures  imphcit  and  unconditional 
submission,  it  is  not  the  authority  to  which  God 
adds  his  peculiar  blessing.  For  that  parental  author- 
ity which  the  Scriptures  recognize,  is  absolute  and 
unconditional.  It  does  not  admit  of  coaxing  or 
frightening  children  into  obedience,  or  of  paying  them 
for  it.  It  demands  it  upon  the  high  and  holy  princi- 
ple of  RIGHT.  “ Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the 
Lord.”  Why  ? “ for  this  is  right  ! ” This  is  right ! 
Just  as  they  are  required  to  be  upright  and  truthful, 
not  because  it  will  win  the  respect  and  admiration 
of  men,  and  secure  the  favor  of  God,  but  because  it 
is  right.  Every  virtue  has  an  intrinsic  merit,  inde- 
pendent of  all  its  antecedents  and  consequents,  de- 
termined by  the  wisdom,  and  fixed  eternally  by  the 
fiat  of  God.  The  child  is  not  to  love  and  honor  his 
parents,  simply  because  he  is  commanded  to  do  it, 
or  because  it  is  beautifully  consonant  with  his  juve- 
nile relations,  but  because  there  is  an  intrinsic  merit 
in  so  doing,  designated  by  the  appellation,  right. 
For  this  reason,  he  must  be  commanded  to  yield 
cheerful  obedience. 

The  Scriptures  recognize  love  as  the  essential  ele- 
ment of  government,  human  and  Divine,  while  yet 
they  inculcate  severity.  They  make  provision  for 


80 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


severe  expedients  in  parental  government  when  all 
others  fail,  in  such  language  as  the  following : “ He 
that  spareth  the  rod  hateth  his  son ; but  he  that 
loveth  him  chasteneth  him  betimes.”  The  parent 
who  “ spareth  ” severity,  to  the  detriment  of  his  au- 
thority, possibly  inflicts  as  great  an  injury  upon  his 
son  as  he  would  by  the  indulgence  of  hatred.  To  re- 
sort to  severity  in  necessary  instances  is  more  conso- 
nant with  love,  than  the  exercise  of  leniency  to  the  sa- 
crifice of  obedience.  “ Foohshness  is  bound  up  in  the 
heart  of  a child  ; but  the  rod  of  correction  will  drive 
it  far  from  him.  The  rod  and  reproof  give  wisdom ; 
but  a child  left  to  himself  bringeth  his  mother  to 
shame.”  Excessive  leniency  will  not  only  ruin  the 
child,  but  bring  his  parents  to  shame.  The  Mstory 
of  families  reveals  fearful  facts  to  verify  these  words. 
More  decisive  parental  chastisement  would  have 
saved  some  mental  agony  behind  bolts  and  bars. 
Doubtless  the  wise  use  of  some  more  rods  would  have 
spared  some  handcuffs  and  gallows.  “ Withhold 
not  correction  from  the  child ; for  if  thou  beatest  him 
with  the  rod  he  shall  not  die.  Thou  shalt  beat  him 
with  the  rod,  and  shalt  deliver  his  soul  from  heU.” 
This  passage  exhibits  the  connection  that  exists  be- 
tween family  government  and  the  salvation  of  chil- 
dren. By  maintaining  authority  in  the  sense  con- 
sidered, a soul  may  be  saved  firom  the  second  death. 
The  solemn  truth  magnifies  the  importance  of  the 
subject  under  review.  It  shows  that  the  moral  and 
religious  characters  of  children  may  depend  upon 
their  secured  obedience.  So  that  it  becomes  a mat- 
ter of  great  concern  whether  they  obey  or  not ; as 
important  as  the  salvation  of  their  precious  souls. 


THE  PAEENTAL  RELATION. 


81 


This  is  not  an  unestablished  supposition  of  Solo- 
mon. It  is  a truth  verified  in  countless  families.  It 
is  appreciated  by  unperverted  reason.  There  is  most 
hope  of  the  most  obedient  children.  They  become 
the  most  useful  citizens,  and  are  most  likely  to  yield 
obedience  to  God.  If  trained  to  unconditional  sub- 
mission in  the  family,  it  will  be  comparatively  easy 
to  transfer,  through  grace,  a similar  exercise  of  grate- 
ful homage  to  God.  Hence,  a rod  may  have  some 
connection  with  religion.  Without  it,  perhaps  the 
parent  might  be  whoUy  unable  “ to  train  up  a child 
in  the  way  he  should  go.”  Such  expedients  as  the 
above  are  Solomon’s  last  resort. 

There  is  one  mode  of  dealing  with  disobedient 
children  by  pious  parents,  too  generally  neglected, 
but  suited  to  spare  many  severe  applications  and 
hours  of  unmingled  sorrow.  It  is  the  government  of 
prayer,  — leading  the  erring  child  away  to  the  closet 
to  implore  the  forgiveness  of  God,  — against  whom 
the  greatest  sin  is  committed.  We  have  the  testi- 
mony of  some  of  the  wisest  and  godliest  men,  that 
this  expedient  has  subdued  the  stubborn  heart  when 
all  others  have  failed.  It  makes  prominent  in  the 
mind  the  great  truth  that  sin  against  man  is  a stfil 
greater  sin  against  God.  It  familiarizes  the  trans- 
gression with  the  truth  of  accountability,  not  only  to 
parents,  but  first  of  aU  to  Jehovah.  It  brings  the 
rebellious  spirit  under  the  most  softening  and  hal- 
lowed influence  — that  of  sincere  and  earnest  prayer. 
It  excludes  from  the  parent’s  heart  the  last  trace  of 
passion,  and  sheds  over  his  demeanor  the  appear- 
ance of  undoubted  sincerity.  More  than  any  other 


82 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


mode  of  correction,  it  is  adapted  to  make  the  child 
feel  that  parental  counsel  is  administered  solely  for 
his  good.  It  sets  disobedience  in  its  true  light  — 
a heinous  sin,  and  its  punishment  a solemn  transac- 
tion. If  any  thing  can  bring  the  disobedient  to 
repentance,  — a result  ever  to  be  sought,  — this  ex- 
pedient is  suited  to  this  end ; and  if  it  fail  to  sub- 
due the  heart,  and  bring  the  child  to  submission,  it 
will  stdl  impart  sincerity  and  solemnity  to  the  par- 
ent’s act,  as  he  proceeds  to  apply  “ Solomon’s  last 
remedy.”  Though  the  offender  continue  rebellious, 
and  give  his  youthful  energies  to  vice,  he  will  not 
readily  forget  the  closet.  The  gracious  look  of  his 
praying  father  or  mother  will  live  m his  eyes,  the 
solemn  tones  of  supplication  will  linger  on  his  ear, 
and  the  moral  impression  of  the  scene  survive  in  his 
heart,  when  he  wanders  dissolute  on  sea  or  land. 
If  he  had  no  associations  but  the  stern  W'ord  of  com- 
mand, the  rod  of  correction,  and  the  air  of  severity, 
to  bind  him  to  his  home,  he  might  never  desire  to 
retrace  his  steps.  But  that  closet  of  wTcsthng  prayer, 
bedewed  with  the  tears  of  a devoted  parent;  that 
voice  of  supplication,  whose  rising  accents  bespoke 
the  strength  of  his  heart’s  fond  afi’ections ; and  that 
kind,  benignant  look  which  beamed  upon  the  face 
of  the  suppliant  — it  aU  hves  in  the  memory  of  the 
past.  It  haunts  him  in  his  dreams.  It  troubles  him 
in  his  waking  moments.  It  endears  him  to  his 
home.  It  awakens  bitter  regrets.  It  may  bring  the 
wanderer  back.  Reader!  if  you  have  a son  far 
away  from  your  family  group,  a vicious  stripling 
somewhere  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  w-hose  impulsive 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


83 


and  rebellious  spirit  you  were  wont  to  subdue  by 
the  voice  of  prayer  in  secret  places,  you  may  hope 
— hope  strongly,  that  the  prodigal  will  return. 

Success  in  the  moral  training  of  children  may  be 
hindered  by  some  things  apparently  unimportant. 
One  is  parental  inconsistency.  It  is  wellnigh  useless 
for  parents  to  forbid  their  children  doing  what  they 
practise  themselves.  The  manifest  discrepancy  be- 
tween example  and  precept  will  beget  hostility  to 
parental  counsel.  The  father  who  is  guilty  of  pro- 
fanity cannot  consistently  rebuke  his  son  for  the 
same  vice.  If  he  neglects  the  house  of  God,  he 
cannot  plausibly  command  his  childi-en  “ to  go  up  to 
the  house  of  the  Lord.”  If  he  uses  intoxicating 
drinks  as  a beverage,  he  will  appear  exceedingly 
singular  in  counselling  them  to  “ touch  not,  taste  not, 
handle  not.”  The  mother,  who  is  habitually  scold- 
ing her  children  will  appear  very  inconsistent  in  re- 
proving them  for  practising  the  same  toward  each 
other.  Upon  this  point  let  a single  fact  speak.  A 
little  girl,  less  than  six  years  of  age,  screamed  out  to 
a younger  brother,  who  was  playing  with  the  mud  in 
the  gutter,  “ Bub,  you  good  for  nothing  little  scamp, 
you  come  right  into  the  house  this  minute,  or  I’ll 
beat  you  till  the  skin  comes  off!  ” 

“ Why,  Angelina,  Angelina,  dear,  what  do  you 
mean  ? Where  do  you  learn  such  talk  ? ” exclaimed 
the  mortified  mother,  who  stood  talking  with  a 
friend. 

Angelina  answered  in  the  innocence  of  childhood : 
“ Why,  mother,  you  see  we  are  playing,  and  he ’s 
my  little  boy,  and  I am  scolding  him,  just  as  you  did 
me  this  morning,  that’s  all.” 


84 


LIFE  AT  THE  FERESIDE. 


Discrepancy  also  between  the  counsels  of  parents 
is  an  inconsistency  which  works  disastrous  results. 
A fact  wiU  best  illustrate  my  meaning.  A pert  little 
miss  once  declared  to  her  Sabbath  school  teacher, 
that  she  could  not  fulfil  the  fifth  commandment  by 
obeying  her  parents,  because  one  commanded  her  to 
do  one  thing,  and  the  other  directed  her  to  do  another. 
“ Just  before  I left  home,”  said  she,  “ mother  told  me 
to  stay  up  stairs  and  study  my  lesson,  and  father 
told  me  to  come  down  and  play.”  “ A house  divided 
against  itself  cannot  stand ! ” 

Deception,  even  in  its  most  unexceptionable  forms, 
is  a serious  obstacle  to  successful  family  government. 
It  is  the  embryo  form  of  downright  dishonesty.  To 
give  a child  an  article  of  luxury,  and  instruct  him  to 
conceal  it  firom  his  brothers  and  sisters,  is  no  other 
than  a lesson  in  the  incipient  steps  of  iniquity.  It 
may  prove  the  rudimental  instruction  of  chicanery 
and  rascality.  It  is  teaching  the  child  to  say  in 
actions,  which  “ speak  louder  than  words,  ‘ I have 
received  no  gift.’  ” This  form  of  deception  appears 
in  numerous  lessons  that  fall  from  the  lips  of  parents. 
It  also  appears  in  the  manners  of  parents,  as  when 
they  are  exceedingly  pleasant  in  company,  but  fret- 
ful and  morose  at  home;  when  they  address  tlieir 
children  in  the  language  of  tenderness  in  the  pres- 
ence of  visitors,  and  at  other  times  in  the  language 
of  impatience  and  anger;  when  they  express  much 
delight  to  company  at  their  coming,  and  when  they 
are  gone  stiU  more  at  their  going ; it  is  a kind  of 
hypocrisy  which  a child  must  observe  to  his  injury, 
if  he  possesses  an  ordinary  share  of  perception. 

Falsehood  is  not  altogether  excluded  firom  pa- 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


85 


rental  government.  How  many  parents  have  made 
a fair  promise  to  their  children,  which  they  never 
designed  to  fulfil,  in  order  to  hush  their  cries,  or 
silence  their  importunities ! How  many  have  as 
plainly  threatened  to  punish  them  for  misdemeanors, 
without  paying  the  least  regard  to  then*  word  when 
the  offence  was  repeated!  I have  heard  a father 
fairly  promise  a pleading  son  a ride  the  next  time 
his  horse  was  harnessed,  if  he  would  be  contented 
to  remain  at  home  “ this  once.”  But  the  same 
promise  was  repeated  the  next  time  his  carriage 
stood  at  the  door ; and  the  little  son’s  reply  was  a 
just  and  withering  rebuke,  “ you  told  me  so  before  ! ” 
As  much  as  to  say,  “ your  word  is  worthless : I 
cannot  depend  upon  your  fairest  promises ; you  do 
not  talk  as  you  mean,  and  my  confidence  is  shaken.” 
If  his  veracity  were  as  clearly  impeached  in  his  deal- 
ings with  a merchant,  he  would  be  an  object  of  gen- 
eral distrust  in  the  mercantile  community. 

How  important  is  parental  example ! We  have 
seen  that  children  are  generally  like  their  parents,  — 
gentle  or  boisterous,  lovely  or  fretful,  moral  or  im- 
moral, according  as  their  parents  are.  You  have 
seen  the  artist  follow  every  hne  of  the  copy  before 
him  with  the  utmost  care.  First  his  pencil  and  then 
his  brush,  with  graceful  touches,  delineates  every 
point  and  mingles  light  and  shadow  in  richest  blend- 
ings tdl  the  whole  appears  in  fairest  proportion  and 
exquisite  beauty.  And  so  complete  is  the  imitation 
that  the  two,  suspended  upon  opposite  walls,  seem 
the  reflection  of  each  other.  The  child  is  an  artist 
of  equal  skill.  He  copies  example.  Hour  after  hour, 
and  day  after  day,  the  unseen  pencilhngs  progress. 

8 


86 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Trait  after  trait,  virtue  after  virtue,  defect  after  de- 
fect, are  mingled  as  light  and  shade,  until  the  last 
touch  of  the  brush.  And  though  the  original  be  laid 
away  in  the  dust,  the  child  may  have  a perfect  copy 
hung  up  on  the  walls  of  his  memory. 

Parents ! By  example  you  may  live  in  the  child. 
The  clods  of  the  valley  may  close  over  your  Lifeless 
remams,  your  sons  and  daughters  be  scattered  over 
a continent,  and  your  name  stricken  from  the  roll  of 
memory,  but  your  example  may  live  in  the  deeds  of 
your  smrviving  offspring,  as  the  lineaments  of  your 
face  live  in  nature’s  fashioning  upon  their  brows. 
Time’s  effacing  finger  may  obliterate  the  epitaph 
that  is  inscribed  upon  your  tombstones ; flourishing 
villages  and  proud  cities  may  rise  upon  the  seques- 
tered spots  where  your  children  were  reared ; and 
other  sights  and  scenes,  darker  or  brighter  than  those 
of  the  present,  may  dishearten  or  cheer  the  wayfarer 
of  future  ages  ; but  your  example  may  go  down  in 
the  lineal  descent,  to  mingle  with  the  mighty  ele- 
ments with  which  a remote  posterity  shall  constitute 
a virtuous  or  depraved  society  ! 

How  important  is  precept ! It  is  the  seed  silently 
germinating  in  the  soil  of  the  youthful  mind,  shoot- 
ing out  its  fibres  on  every  side,  and  sending  down 
its  thrifty  roots  into  the  unknown  depths  of  the 
heart.  It  is  the  life-elLxir,  or  insidious  poison,  that 
purifies  or  taints  the  thoughts,  ere  they  appear  in 
the  embodiment  of  hving  acts.  It  is  the  saving  in- 
fluence, that  can  bridle  and  direct  the  young  imagi- 
nation, before  it  learns  to  grovel  in  the  dust,  or 
plumes  its  wings  for  “ castles  in  the  air.”  It  is  the 
material  of  enduring  texture  which  runs  through  the 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


87 


whole  of  life,  and  which  is  incorporated  into  the 
warp  and  woof  of  character. 

Even  the  isolated  word  or  sentence,  undesigned 
for  the  ear  of  childhood,  has  often  the  determining 
force  of  precept.  It  is  caught  by  the  ear,  and  held 
by  the  heart,  and  showed  in  the  life.  How  quick  is 
the  prattling  chUd,  three  years  old,  to  catch  and  lisp 
an  unguarded  phrase ! “ Old  Tom  Jones,”  said  a 

heedless  mother  to  the  inquiry,  who  such  a caller 
was ; and  the  little  chUd,  playing  about  the  room, 
continued  repeating  “ Old  Tom  Jones.”  She  called 
her  playthings  “ old  Tom  Jones.”  Last  of  all  she 
called  her  elder  sister,  “ old  Tom  Jones.”  Whether 
“ old  Tom  Jones  ” inflicted  a lasting  injury  upon  her 
mind,  we  have  not  learned ; but  we  are  confident 
that  Mr.  Thomas  Jones  would  not  have  perilled  her 
character  at  all.  It  is  not  unusual  for  the  smallest 
lads  in  the  street  to  employ  epithets,  nicknames,  and 
low  phrases,  which  they  learn  in  the  household. 
Where  is  the  community  in  which  the  children  are 

not  famUiar  with  at  least  one  old  L ,”  or  some 

aged  “ Jerry,”  before  whose  gray  hairs  they  ought 
to  bow  with  reverence,  and  not  sound  his  name  in 
mimicry ; or  some  “ crazy  Kate^'  whose  misfortune 
awakens  no  emotions  of  pity  in  their  hearts,  because 
of  the  merry  use  they  make  of  the  appellation. 

If,  then,  a single  passing  word  may  be  seized  upon 
by  the  young,  and  wrought  into  the  essential  acts  of 
life,  how  forcible  must  be  positive  precept!  Why 
may  not  the  faithful  moral  lessons  of  the  household 
be  inscribed  as  with  a diamond’s  point  upon  the 
heart?  Why  may  we  not  expect  that  the  child 
reared  in  “ wisdom’s  ways  ” wUl  not  depart  there- 


88 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


from  in  age  ? Parents,  value  precept.  Its  price  is 
far  above  rubies.  Study  to  wield  it  with  power. 
Handle  choice  words.  They  are  like  “ apples  of 
gold  in  pictures  of  silver.”  Impart  ennobling 
thoughts.  Counsel  wisely,  intelligently  — for  virtue, 
usefulness,  and  God. 

It  is  vain  to  expect  well  developed  moral  and 
religious  characters  in  children,  unless  example  is 
thus  closely  followed  by  precept.  An  eminent  illus- 
tration is  on  record.  Montaigne,  a distinguished 
French  Essayist,  was  the  son  of  wealthy  and  hon- 
ored parents,  who  spared  no  pains  or  expense  in  his 
training.  Every  precaution  was  taken  to  develop 
his  genius  into  fau  and  symmetrical  proportions ; 
and  no  less  watchfulness  to  preserve  him  from  the 
contaminating  influence  of  corrupt  associations. 
No  positive  lessons  of  a moral  and  religious  char- 
acter, except  those  which  taught  the  distinction  be- 
tween right  and  wrong,  were  impressed  upon  his 
mind.  His  personal  duties  to  God  w'-ere  untouched, 
in  their  relations  to  human  accountability  and  a 
futm’e  judgment.  But  every  precaution  was  taken 
to  fuimish  him  wdth  pure  companionships,  and  keep 
him  apart  from  the  vicious  and  dissolute.  He  was 
not  permitted,  as  other  lads,  to  associate  -^dth  every 
boy  in  the  street,  nor  mingle  in  every  scene  of 
worldly  pleasm-e.  His  associates,  his  books,  his 
sports,  were  carefully  selected  with  reference  to  mo- 
rality. And  in  order  to  sweeten  his  temper,  refine 
his  genius,  and  soften  his  heart,  a band  of  richest 
music  was  employed  to  awake  Mm  from  his  slum- 
bers at  every  morning’s  dawn.  Its  soft  and  charm- 
ing melody  filled  Ms  chamber  with  its  rapturous 


THE  PARENTAL  RELATION. 


89 


cadences,  and,  as  his  eyes  opened  to  every  rising 
sun,  his  ear  caught  these  harmonies,  suited  to  capti- 
vate and  inspire  his  heart.  Yet,  he  grew  up  to  be  a 
boasting  infidel.  All  the  studied  efforts  to  preserve 
his  social  and  moral  virtues  did  not  avail  to  com- 
plete his  character,  inasmuch  as  there  was  wanting 
positive  counsel  concerning  his  duties  to  God.  It 
was  not  sufficient  to  select  his  companions,  his 
books,  his  pleasures,  nor  to  instruct  him  in  regard  to 
his  obligations  to  his  fellow  men  ; there  were  needed 
the  lessons  found  alone  in  the  Word  of  God,  to  es- 
tabhsh  him  in  religious  principle,  and  make  him  a 
fond  lover  of  the  truth.  He  needed  to  know  more 
of  his  own  heart,  more  of  God  and  his  claims,  more 
of  the  judgment  and  eternity. 

In  the  view  we  have  taken  of  the  parental  relation, 
a word  has  not  been  uttered  which  may  not  have  a 
bearing  upon  the  injunction,  “ Train  up  a child  in 
the  way  he  should  go.”  We  have  spoken  of  physi- 
cal, intellectual,  and  secular  discipline,  aU  of  which 
may  become  an  aid,  or  a hinderance,  to  the  moral 
and  religious  culture  of  the  child.  Many  of  the  inci- 
dentals, usually  regarded  as  unimportant,  have  much 
to  do  with  the  perceptions  of  the  mind  and  the  ten- 
dencies of  the  heart.  There  is  more  hope  of  the 
pohte  and  respectful  child,  who  addresses  his  parents 
with  becoming  reverence,  than  of  him  who  employs 
the  rough  “ yes  ” and  “ no,”  “ I wiU  ” and  “ I won’t.” 
Even  these  little  words  are  indicative  of  prospective 
insubordination.  They  are  as  ominous  of  ill  in  the 
history  of  the  child,  as  buU-baiting  and  horseracing 
in  the  history  of  adults.  Hence,  we  insist  that  the 
entire  discipline  of  a child,  corporeal,  intellectual, 
8* 


90 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


and  secular,  has  to  do  with  the  issues  of  that  relig- 
ious obligation  which  God  has  imposed  upon  every 
parent.  In  this  respect,  parental  responsibility  should 
be  pondered. 

What  motives  urge  the  parent  to  study,  and 
faithfully  to  discharge  the  duties  of  his  responsible 
relation ! It  is  not  alone  that  society  has  a claim 
upon  his  fidelity,  nor  that  his  watch  and  counsel 
will  promote  the  earthly  happiness  of  his  children, 
nor  contribute  to  the  felicity  of  his  own  declining 
life,  that  he  is  exhorted  to  consider  the  solemn  trust ; 
but  more  especially,  because  a deathless  soul  taber- 
nacles in  the  comely  and  beautiful  body.  His  home 
may  be  humble  in  respect  to  the  embeUishments  of 
wealth  and  the  graces  of  literary  refinement,  from 
which  no  gifted  son  shall  go  forth  to  seats  of  science, 
or  legislative  hall ; but  it  may  furnish  a better  treas- 
ure to  the  chm’ch,  and  hopeful  candidates  for  the 
kingdom  of  God.  His  humble  efforts  may  offer  to 
the  world  no  pearl  of  genius,  nor  gem  of  art ; but 
they  may  add  to  the  Christian  ranks  “ sons  to  be  as 
plants  grown  up  in  their  youth,  and  daughters  as 
corner-stones  polished  after  the  simihtude  of  a pal- 
ace.” He  may  not  be  able  to  confer  upon  them  a 
legacy  of  wealth,  nor  a world-'udde  fame ; but  his 
words  and  his  prayers  may  secure  them  a title  to  a 
harp  and  crown  of  glory  above. 


IV. 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


“ Honor  thy  parents,  those  that  gave  thee  birth, 

And  watched  in  tenderness  thine  earliest  days, 

And  trained  thee  up  in  youth,  and  lovtd  in  all. 

Honor,  obey,  and  love  them ; it  shall  fill 
Their  souls  with  holy  joy,  and  shall  bring  do'^vn 
God’s  richest  blessing  on  thee ; and  in  days 
To  come,  thy  children,  if  they  ’re  given. 

Shall  honor  thee,  and  fill  thy  life  with  peace.” 

Edwards. 


The  Scriptures  greatly  magnify  the  filial  relation. 
It  occupies  a prominent  place  in  the  decalogue. 
Its  duties  are  the  theme  of  frequent  discourse 
throughout  the  Word  of  God.  The  following  se- 
lection of  texts  exhibits  the  importance  which  God 
attaches  to  it. 

“ Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother  ; that  thy  days 
may  be  long  upon  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God 
giveth  thee.” 

“ Cursed  be  he  that  setteth  light  by  his  father  or 
his  mother  ; and  all  the  people  shall  say,  Amen.” 

“ My  son,  hear  the  instruction  of  thy  father,  and 
forsake  not  the  law  of  thy  mother : Bind  them  con- 
tinually upon  thine  heart,  and  tie  them  about  thy 
neck.  When  thou  goest,  it  shall  lead  thee  ; when 

(91) 


92 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


thou  steepest,  it  shall  keep  thee;  and  when  thou 
awakest,  it  shall  talk  with  thee.” 

“ Whoso  curseth  his  father  or  his  mother,  his  lamp 
shall  be  put  out  in  obscure  darkness.” 

“ The  eye  that  mocketh  at  his  father,  and  de- 
spiseth  to  obey  his  mother,  the  ravens  of  the  valley 
shall  pick  it  out,  and  the  young  eagle  shall  eat  it.” 

“ Children,  obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord ; for  tliis 
is  right.  Honor  thy  father  and  mother,  (which  is 
the  first  commandment  wdth  promise).  That  it 
may  be  well  with  thee,  and  thou  mayest  live  long 
on  the  earth.” 

In  such  language  the  Scriptm-es  present  the  claims 
of  the  filial  relation.  They  teach  children  to  honor, 
love,  fear,  reverence,  obey,  please,  provide  for,  and 
make  happy  their  parents,  as  well  as  to  regard  their 
faithful  instructions  and  example. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  penalty  inflicted  for  the  vio- 
lation of  the  fifth  commandment,  under  the  Jewish 
economy,  shows,  by  its  terrible  severity,  the  light  in 
which  God  regards  it.  The  fearful  threatening 
against  the  sin  appears  in  the  following  language. 
“ He  that  smiteth  his  father  or  mother  shall  surely 
be  put  to  death.  And  he  that  curseth  his  father  or 
mother  shall  surely  be  put  to  death.”  “ If  a man 
have  a stubborn  and  rebellious  son  which  ■«t1I  not 
obey  the  voice  of  his  father,  or  the  voice  of  his 
mother,  and  that  when  they  have  chastened  him, 
will  not  hearken  unto  them ; . . . . And  all  the  men 
of  the  city  shall  stone  him  \\dth  stones  that  he  die ; 
so  shalt  thou  put  evil  away  from  among  you,  and  all 
Israel  shall  hear  and  fear.”  A severe  penalty,  in- 
deed, for  the  violation  of  the  fifth  commandment, 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


93 


was  this  punishment  of  death ! It  is  evidence  that 
God  regards  the  neglect  or  abuse  of  filial  duties  as 
a matter  of  great  concern.  The  dispensation  is 
changed,  but  the  fifth  commandment  is  as  sacred 
and  binding  now  as  ever.  It  is  as  dear  to  God,  and 
as  important  to  the  family  and  the  world,  as  it  was 
four  thousand  years  ago.  The  commandment  has 
abated  none  of  its  force  in  the  march  of  time,  and 
cannot  be  disregarded  now  with  moral  impunity. 

It  is  conceded  that  aU  parents  do  not  equally  de- 
serve the  love  and  obedience  of  their  children. 
There  are  those  who  are  immoral,  tyrannical,  and 
even  cruel  — those  who  appear  exceedingly  irrespon- 
sible in  res^Dect  to  all  their  family  duties  — those  who 
set  a bad,  and  even  debasing,  example  before  their 
children  — those  who  have  not  the  fear  of  God  or 
man  before  their  eyes  — unloving  and  unnatural  par- 
ents, whose  influence  tends  to  lead  their  offspring 
down  to  the  abyss  of  wo  — parents  who  ought  to 
hang  their  heads  for  shame,  and  wonder  God  ever 
gave  them  a child.  Yet,  even  here  the  ties  of  nature 
compel  childi'en  to  give  some  heed  to  Divine  instruc- 
tion in  respect  to  their  duties.  They  are  not  to 
obey  their  parents  when  obedience  will  conflict  with 
the  law  of  God.  The  command  is,  “ Children, 
obey  your  parents  in  the  Lord ; ” that  is,  so  far  as 
they  do  not  require  you  to  disobey  God.  Li  aU 
the  remarks  that  foUow  upon  this  subject,  it  is 
taken  for  granted  that  the  counsels  and  com- 
mands of  parents  are  in  harmony  with  Divine  re- 
quirements. 

Notwithstanding  the  solemn  injunctions  of  the 
Scriptures  relating  to  the  subject,  there  is  scarcely 


94 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


any  relation  of  life  so  little  regarded  as  the  filial.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  compute  or  describe  the  wo 
which  has  preyed  upon  the  hearts  and  happiness  of 
devoted  parents,  in  consequence  of  unfilial  acts. 
Language  cannot  depict  the  sorrow  which  is  even 
now  “ bringing  down  grey  hairs  to  the  grave,”  be- 
cause of  prodigals  who  return  naught  for  a parent's 
blessings,  but  ingratitude  and  rebellion.  Since  Da- 
' vid  wept  for  Absalom,  tears  have  never  ceased  to 
flow,  in  the  closet,  and  at  the  fireside,  over  the  heart 
less  returns  that  children  make  for  parental  kind- 
ness. The  graves  that  have  been  filled  with  broken- 
hearted parents  in  past  ages,  would  cover  an  em- 
pire with  their  mounds.  The  great  company  to  be 
summoned  to  the  judgment-seat,  whose  chief  sin  is 
a violation  of  the  fifth  commandment,  we  might 
almost  say,  in  truth,  “ no  man  can  number.” 

Would  that  an  inspiration  might  awaken  thoughts, 
and  dictate  words  of  sufficient  power  to  cause  every 
reader  to  feel  upon  a theme  of  such  intrinsic  merit ! 
Would  that  every  child  and  youth,  and  every  person 
blest  with  a living  parent,  might  appreciate  these  en- 
dearing ties  of  nature  ! Would  that  a sense  of  right 
and  duty  might  arrest  the  unfilial  words  and  acts, 
wMch  even  now  pierce,  as  daggers,  the  fond  paren- 
tal heart!  Would  that  the  spirit  of  all  which  is 
embraced  in  the  words  honor,  love,  confide,  fear, 
obey,  might  pervade  every  family,  and  cheer  the 
aged  in  their  descent  to  the  tomb  ! 

Doubtless  a lack  of  consideration  will  account  for 
much  conduct  which  is  inconsistent  with  honoring 
parents.  Yet,  after  excepting  this,  there  is  witnessed 
on  every  hand  an  alarming  disrespect  to  parents, 


THE  FILIAL  EELATION. 


95 


from  the  moody,  surly  look,  to  the  violent  word  and 
act  of  insubordination.  If  left  to  themselves,  chil- 
dren and  youth  always  transgress  the  Divine  com- 
mandment on  this  subject.  And  even  when  gener- 
ally observant  of  it,  there  are  many  inconsiderate 
words  and  deeds  that  are  not  in  keeping  with  due 
fihal  regard.  A few  of  these  ordinary,  and  perhaps, 
inferior  inconsistencies,  will  be  named. 

Opposing  the  opinions  of  parents  does  not  become 
a child  in  minority.  To  call  in  question  advice,  as 
if  unsound  or  unwholesome  — to  set  up  opinion  in 
opposition  to  it,  and  discuss  it  as  if  with  a mere  com- 
panion — is  not  the  respectful  demeanor  which  the 
law  of  God  requires.  “ Why  require  me  to  do  this  ? 
Henry  and  James  are  not  required  to  do  thus.  Other 
young  men  are  not  required  to  make  an  oracle  of 
their  parents.  I know  what  is  best  for  me.  Such 
opinions  are  whims.”  Discussions  of  this  character 
are  not  altogether  unknown  in  families.  They  are 
inconsistent  with  proper  filial  respect. 

Addressing  parents  with  pertness  and  irreverence 
is  of  the  same  character.  A quick,  sharp,  short,  un- 
cheerful reply,  with  a careless,  reckless  manner  to 
give  it  emphasis,  savors  of  wrong  in  the  heart.  The 
youth  does  not  fuUy  appreciate  to  whom  he  is  speak- 
ing. He  has  forgotten  the  fifth  commandment.' 
How  much  more  winning  and  beautiful,  how  much 
more  consistent  with  fihal  duties,  is  the  considerate 
and  respectful  address ! 

It  is  not  unusual  for  young  men,  and  even  lads, 
to  employ  the  phrase,  “ old  man,”  to  designate  a 
father.  It  is  not  the  fruit  of  a base,  rebeUious  spirit, 
so  much  as  of  inconsideration.  But  stop,  young 


96 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


man,  and  ponder  this  phrase ! Let  us  revolve  it 
carefully,  and  see  if  it  will  do  for  the  household,  as 
well  as  for  the  shop.  Who  is  this  “ old  man  ? ” Is 
he  some  wretched  vagabond,  with  rent  clothes  and 
tattered  hat,  and  shoeless  feet,  a disgusting,  ugly  vic- 
tim of  vice  ? Is  he  a fugitive  from  justice,  who 
ought  to  be  at  Sing  Sing  or  Botany  Bay,  or  some 
dangerous  lunatic  just  escaped  from  the  insane  hos- 
pital ? Or  is  he  some  foul  wretch  in  your  neighbor- 
hood, whose  loathsome  vices  have  excluded  him 
from  honorable  society,  and  for  whom  no  gushing 
sympathy  flows  ? No  ! He  is  thine  own  father. 
His  likeness  is  daguerreotyped  upon  your  brow. 
His  blood  runs  in  your  veins.  His  affections  twine 
around  your  heart.  His  life  lives  in  you,  and  wastes 
for  you.  It  is  he  to  whom  you  apply  this  disrespect- 
ful appellation.  Suppose  you  speak  it  at  the  fireside. 
Sound  it  in  your  father’s  ears.  Let  your  mother 
hear  it.  Proclaim  it  to  the  visitor.  Dare  you  ? Re- 
peat it  with  the  fifth  commandment.  “ Honor  thy 
father  ! ” “ Old  man  I ” How  it  grates  upon  the 

ear ! How  it  shames ! What  thoughts  it  startles  ! 
How  conscience  lashes ! Ay,  in  moments  of  cahn 
reflection,  what  bitter  regrets  arise  for  having  said  it ! 

Worse  stfil,  many  a young  man,  or  youth,  tells  of 
the  “ old  woman.”  And  who  is  she  ? Is  she  some 
loathed  Xantippe,  or  hateful  Olympias,  a pest  to  the 
neighborhood,  and  a shame  to  her  sex?  Is  she 
some  disgusting  shrew,  the  butt  of  biting  ridicule, 
and  the  object  of  the  town’s  contempt  ? The  “ old 
woman ! ” Is  she  some  travelling  victim  of  insanity, 
dangerous  to  be  abroad,  and  at  whose  coming  moth- 
ers lock  the  doors,  and  children  hide  ? Then,  per- 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


97 


chance,  the  appellation  may  have  some  shadow  of 
apology.  But  no  ! She  is  thine  own  mother,  with- 
out whose  tender  care,  love,  night-watching,  solici- 
tude, prayers,  and  tears,  you  might  have  been  straight- 
ened for  the  grave.  The  toiling,  self-sacrificing 
woman,  from  whose  breasts  you  drew  existence,  and 
whose  quenchless  love  would  part  with  houses, 
lands,  and  life,  rather  than  with  yourself  — she  it 
is,  to  whom  you  apply  the  rough  appellation.  Put 
it  upon  the  lips  of  the  low  and  vulgar,  and  let  them 
pursue  her  in  the  streets,  and  shout  it  in  her  ears, 
“ old  woman  ! ” Could  you  endure  it  ? Would  it 
not  arouse  your  indignation,  and  stir  your  very  soul 
to  vindicate  the  mother  who  bore  you  from  such 
foul  insult  ? Yet,  how  much  less  offensive  this 
phrase  would  be  on  the  tongue  of  a stranger,  than 
on  that  of  her  own  loved  son  ! 

There  are  baser  forms  of  violation  of  the  filial 
relation  which  are  unmistakable,  and  always  excite 
sm’prise.  These  need  not  be  named.  The  above  are 
cited  as  examples  of  what  often  occurs  in  thought- 
less moments. 

Consider  some  of  the  causes  of  the  neglect  of  filial 
duties.  One  is,  no  just  appreciation  of  the  toils  of 
parents.  Very  few  children  appreciate  the  labors 
and  anxieties  of  parents  in  their  training,  until  in 
manhood  and  womanhood  they  become  parents 
themselves.  Consequently,  few  cherish  those  grate- 
ful emotions,  without  which  the  duties  of  the  filial 
relation  cannot  be  cheerfully  and  faithfully  dis- 
charged. In  mature  years  we  look  back  with  re- 
gret upon  youthful  disobedience,  and  wmnder  that 
our  hearts  could  be  so  steeled  against  the  kindness 

9 


98 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


that  we  shared  in  the  family.  And  we  hasten  to 
atone,  in  some  measm'e,  for  short-comings,  by 
marked  and  sincere  attention  to  them  in  the  de- 
cline of  life. 

Erroneous  views  of  parental  discipline  is  another 
cause  of  unfilial  acts.  Youth  are  wont  to  feel  that 
the  restraints  of  family  government  are  needless,  at 
least  in  a measure.  They  often  imagine  that  par- 
ents are  not  interested  in  their  enjoyments,  and  are 
unwilling  that  they  should  share  the  usual  pleasures 
of  life.  They  regard  some  of  their  demands  as  the 
dictate  of  a sdly  “ notion  ” or  “ whim,”  and  not  a de- 
sire to  promote  their  highest  welfare.  Sometimes 
they  indulge  the  sentiment  that  parents  are  unable 
to  appreciate  the  wants  of  early  hfe,  and  hence 
suppose  that  they  can  best  select  and  make  decis- 
ions for  themselves.  It  all  arises  from  the  imposed 
restraints  of  family  government,  the  real  object  of 
which  they  fail  to  see. 

A deshe  to  be  independent  is  another  cause  of  the 
violation  of  the  fifth  commandment.  Many  young 
persons  imagine  it  to  be  manly  to  do  as  they  please, 
— that  a boy  cannot  be  a man  rmtil  he  sets  himself 
against  a father’s  counsel,  and  opposes  a mother  to 
her  face.  He  thinks  it  adds  much  to  his  popularity 
to  have  it  known  through  the  circle  of  his  compan- 
ions that  he  goes  and  comes  when  he  pleases,  and 
is  his  own  master  at  home  and  abroad.  This  may 
add  to  his  popularity  among  the  reckless ; but  it 
stains  his  character  indehbly  in  the  sight  of  the  wise 
and  good.  The  youth,  or  young  man,  in  any  com- 
munity, who  is  known  to  dishonor  his  parents,  has 
not  the  confidence  of  that  commmiity.  He  is  looked 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


99 


upon  as  a fair  candidate  for  ruin.  Such  independ- 
ence, in  the  view  of  all  considerate  persons,  foreshad- 
ows a degree  of  future  viciousness  positively  alarming. 
We  would  point  such  mistaken  sons  to  the  filial  re- 
gard of  Joseph  — the  son  of  immortal  memory.  He 
stood  near  the  throne  of  Egypt,  loaded  with  honors, 
the  admired  of  all  admirers.  But  he  was  none  the 
less  a man,  when  he  sent  for  his  aged  and  afflicted 
father,  and  fell  upon  his  neck  and  kissed  him,  in  the 
exercise  of  devoted  love.  He  never  appeared  so  no- 
ble, as  when  he  performed  that  warm,  filial  act. 
You,  and  all  others  honor  him  for  it.  Yet  Joseph 
was  independent,  and  doubly  so,  since  he  could  rise 
above  the  pride  of  his  own  heart,  and  the  fear  of  men 
taunting  him  for  his  filial  devotion. 

Contrast  in  this  respect,  Napoleon  and  Alexander. 
The  former,  apparently,  lost  his  filial  reverence  and 
affection,  when  he  ascended  the  throne.  Amid  the 
splendors  of  royalty,  his  proud  heart  was  too  base  to 
entertain  generous  and  tender  sentiments  towards 
his  mother.  One  day  he  met  her  in  the  garden  of 
St.  Cloud,  as  he  was  waUdng  with  his  courtiers, 
and,  instead  of  regarding  her  as  a son,  he  extended 
his  hand  for  her  to  kiss.  She  immediately  presented 
her  own  hand,  replying,  “ Not  so,  my  son,  it  is  your 
duty  to  Idss  the  hand  of  her  who  gave  you  life.” 

Olympias  was  the  mother  of  Alexander,  and  had  a 
disposition  so  unhappy,  that  he  could  not  employ 
her  in  any  of  the  affairs  of  government.  Antipater, 
Alexander’s  deputy  in  Europe,  once  wrote  a letter  to 
him,  complaining  of  her  conduct,  to  wfflom  Alexander 
replied,  “ Knowest  thou  not  that  one  tear  of  my 
mother’s  will  blot  out  a thousand  such  letters  ? ” 


100 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


How  ignoble  Napoleon  appears  as  a son  beside 
Alexander  in  the  same  relation ! History  is  true  to 
the  instincts  of  nature,  and  severely  rebukes  him  for 
his  heartlessness.  He  is  less  a man  in  the  imperial 
purple,  without  filial  regard,  than  he  would  have 
been  in  obscurity  with  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
Alexander  towers  above  his  ordinary  greatness,  Ms 
fame  spreads,  and  his  memory  is  dearer,  because  of 
his  warm  devotion  to  his  mother.  There  is  more 
glory  in  the  regard  for  Ms  aged  parent,  than  in  a 
thousand  victories  like  those  of  Issus  and  Tyre. 
Look  at  this  striking  contrast,  ye  unkind  and  disobe- 
dient, and  be  ashamed  of  your  misnamed  independ- 
ence ! 

In  close  proximity  to  the  above  is  yet  another 
cause.  Some  regard  expressions  of  filial  love  a 
weakness.  With  false  and  dishonorable  views  of 
human  nobleness,  they  obliterate  the  loveliest  sensi- 
bilities of  the  heart.  Such  may  be  properly  re- 
minded of  the  meeting  of  the  immortal  Washington 
with  his  mother,  just  before  his  inaugm'ation  as 
President  of  the  United  States.  The  great  man 
met  her  as  a son.  He  bowed  his  head  upon  her 
shoulders  and  wept.  He  addressed  her  in  the  lan- 
ofuaofe  of  grateful  emotion.  His  words  were  full  of 
tenderness  and  affection.*  Yet  he  made  no  compro- 
mise of  his  dignity  and  greatness.  He  was  none  the 
less  a man.  He  was  Washington  still.  Posterity 
has  not  pronounced  it  a weakness.  It  is  recorded 
upon  the  historic  page  as  an  additional  evidence  of 
his  greatness.  It  insures  a tribute  to  his  memory  in 

* See  the  same  more  in  detail,  in  the  Chapter  on  Era  for 
Mothers. 


THE  FILIAL  KELATION. 


101 


the  hearts  of  the  vh-tuous  free,  as  enduring  as  the 
monumental  pile,  which  is  rising  in  unsurpassed 
magnificence  to  transmit  his  name  to  remote  pos- 
terity. 

Often  the  providence  of  God  elevates  a child  above 
the  lowly  condition  of  his  parents.  God  gives  him 
wealth  and  honorable  position.  He  is  intelligent 
and  educated.  And  now,  because  of  the  large  gifts 
of  a kind  Providence,  he  becomes  ashamed  of  his 
humble  parentage.  The  poor,  unlettered  pair,  who 
cared  for  him  in  infancy,  and  to  whom  he  is  yet 
dear  as  life  itself,  are  wellnigh  forsaken.  Possibly 
he  may  occasionally  visit  their  retired  residence  ; but 
he  would  carefully  exclude  them  fi’om  the  circle  in 
which  he  moves. 

The  writer  has  been  in  company  with  a young 
man  of  winning  appearance.  The  graces  of  refine- 
ment adorned  his  speech  and  person ; and  the  heart 
was  weUnigh  captivated  with  so  fine  a specimen  of 
the  gentleman.  But,  on  learning  that,  although  the 
only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  a widow,  his  de- 
meanor towards  her  was  cold  and  heartless,  aU  ap- 
pearance of  the  true  gentleman  suddenly  vanished. 
God  once  prostrated  him  upon  a bed  of  suffering, 
and,  when  tossing  from  side  to  side  with  feverish 
excitement,  he  was  glad  to  admit  his  humble,  unre- 
fined, but  excellent  mother  to  his  room.  But  when 
an  accomplished  companion  paid  him  a visit,  his 
pride  overcame  what  natural  affection  he  had,  and 
he  passed  her  off  for  a nurse.  Unfeeling  vuetch! 
We  almost  wonder  that  a bolt  of  divine  vengeance 
did  not  send  him  instantly  into  eternity,  to  meet  an 
angry  God.  We  wonder  that  conscience  did  not 

9 * 


102 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


drive  him  to  despair,  as  he  reflected  upon  his  cruel 
deed.  If  such  bondage  to  fashionable  society,  and 
such  fear  of  refined  associates,  is  not  consummate 
weakness,  then  humanity  is  never  weak.  I often 
meet  that  young  man;  but  my  soul  shrinks  from 
him  as  from  a loathsome  viper.  All  his  graces  have 
dwflndled  away  in  my  eyes,  and  he  walks  the  streets 
a specimen  of  hypocrisy.  It  will  not  surprise  me  if 
some  terrible  calamity  befaU  him.  It  will  be  a mer- 
ited judgment.  And  if  he  tosses  at  last  upon  the 
burning  billows  of  woe  for  nothing  else,  he  will,  if 
unrepentant,  for  breaking  the  fifth  commandment. 

Contrast  with  the  above  the  filial  regard  of  Arch- 
bishop Tillotson.  His  father  was  a poor,  plain  man ; 
and  on  paying  his  first  visit  to  his  son,  after  he  was 
inducted  into  his  high  office,  he  inquired  of  the  ser- 
vant, if  “ John  Tillotson  was  at  home.”  The  ser\'ant 
supposing  him  a poor,  unmannerly  traveller,  ordered 
him  from  the  door ; but  the  dean,  recogni2ing  the 
voice  of  his  father,  instead  of  ushering  him  into  Iris 
house  privately,  ran  out,  exclaiming  to  the  surprise  of 
his  servants,  “ It  is  my  beloved  father  ; ” and  falling 
down  before  him,  craved  his  benediction.  Noble  ex- 
ample of  filial  attachment!  We  are  constrained  to 
feel,  in  reading  it,  that  such  a man  is  fitted  for  so  high 
an  office  in  the  church.  Had  he  treated  his  aged 
parent  with  the  unfilial  spirit  of  the  young  man 
named  above,  the  title  of  Arch-sinner  would  have 
become  him  better  than  Archbishop. 

It  has  been  akeady  intimated  that  a lack  of  filial 
regard  betokens  an  evil  heart.  This  truth  deserves 
a careful  consideration.  The  severe  penalty  may 
have  been  attached  to  the  fifth  commandment, 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


103 


under  the  Jewish  dispensation,  because  of  the  great 
sins  which  unfilial  acts  prognosticate.  Disobedience 
to  parents  is  often  the  beginning  of  a criminal  ca- 
reer. It  is  the  seed  of  future  and  blacker  vices. 
Insubordination  in  the  family  grows  into  insubordi- 
nation in  the  State.  He,  who  does  not  respect  his 
parents,  will  not  be  likely  to  respect  a ruler.  He 
who  wilfully  tramples  upon  the  commandment, 
“ Honor  thy  father  and  mother,”  wiU  not  hesitate, 
eventually,  to  disregard  the  other  nine. 

It  is  recorded,  that  five  persons  were  executed  a 
few  years  since,  one  in  Springfield  and  four  in 
Boston ; aU  of  whom  declared  upon  the  scafibld,  that 
their  wickedness  began  in  neglect,  or  abuse  of  the 
filial  relation.  The  Rev.  Louis  Dwight,  who  is  fa- 
miliar with  such  statistics,  says  that  “ after  faithful 
inquiry  into  the  history  of  the  numerous  criminals 
confined  in  the  prisons  of  the  United  States,  in 
nearly  all  cases,  their  course  began  in  disobedience 
to  parents.”  The  following  is  the  language  of  a 
criminal  awaiting  his  doom  upon  the  scaffold.  “ My 
disobedience  to  parents  has  brought  this  misery  upon 
me.  My  father  gave  me  good  instructions  when  I 
was  a child,  but  I did  not  mind  them.  I would  not 
go  to  school  when  he  would  have  sent  me.  I would 
not  go  to  a trade  when  he  wished  to  have  me.  After 
my  father  died  I would  not  obey  those  who  had  the 
care  of  me.  I ran  away  from  several  masters.  And 
now  I have  ran  into  the  jaws  of  death.”  It  is  the 
thrilling  language  of  a degenerate  son’s  experience  — 
the  outbursts  of  his  sincere  heart,  when  he  stood 
aghast  upon  the  borders  of  eternity.  Hear,  then,  the 
voice  of  misery  itself,  as  it  reveals  the  cause  of  its 


104 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


own  existence ! Listen,  careless  youth,  to  warnings 
that  come  from  the  very  mouth  of  the  pit,  — made 
solemn  by  the  awful  realities  which  await  a guilty 
soul! 

Such  facts,  which  might  be  greatly  multiplied, 
show  that  unfilial  deeds  are  ominous  of  fearful 
reaches  in  transgression. 

Pubhc  opinion  regards  this  recldessness,  in  respect 
to  filial  duties,  a sure  omen  of  consummate  future 
wickedness.  The  youth,  or  young  man  in  any  com- 
munity, who  prides  himself  upon  his  disregard  of 
filial  duties,  is  an  object  of  general  suspicion. 
Mothers  fear  his  contaminating  influence  upon  their 
children.  The  manufacturer  dares  not  commit  im- 
portant trusts  to  his  keeping.  The  merchant  fears 
to  employ  him  in  his  traffic.  The  school  committee 
receive  complaints  of  his  ill  behavior  in  school. 
Wanton  depredations,  committed  in  garden  or  or- 
chard, are  laid  to  his  charge.  Li  short,  he  is  an 
object  of  universal  distrust,  and  men  are  not  sur- 
prised to  hear  of  almost  any  iniquity  perpetrated  by 
this  family  disturber.  The  fact  shows,  that  manldnd 
reaUy  expect  this  sin  in  the  household  \\dll  lead  to 
greater  sins  in  the  State. 

Hence,  it  may  be  inferred,  that  when  a son  ^\'ill 
address  his  mother  with  disrespect,  or  do  any  thing 
in  opposition  to  his  father’s  counsel,  he  has  the  dis- 
position to  take  upon  his  soul,  at  some  future  day, 
the  guilt  of  flagrant  sins.  It  is  a truth  of  fearful  im- 
port, and  ought  to  impress  the  minds  of  son  and 
daughter,  and  arouse  parents  to  avert,  if  possible,  the 
evils  which  threaten. 

When  children  arrive  at  manhood  and  woman- 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


105 


hood,  having  the  maintenance  of  aged  and  infirm 
parents,  a wilful  disregard  of  their  filial  duties  pro- 
vokes the  unsparing  censure  of  all  beholders.  Our 
common  humanity  recognizes  here  a duty,  the  neg- 
lect of  which  can  be  paUiated  by  no  excuse.  No 
mantle  of  charity  is  broad  enough  to  cover  such  a 
sin.  But  such  examples  of  filial  degeneracy  are  rare. 
Usually,  on  arriving  at  maturity,  and  becoming  the 
heads  of  families,  children  hasten  to  bless  the  declin- 
ing years  of  their  parents.  Then  they  begin  to  ap- 
preciate the  kindness,  love,  care,  and  solicitude,  be- 
neath whose  reign  their  tender  childhood  was  de- 
veloped. It  becomes  a pleasure  to  solace  the  few 
remaining  days  of  those  to  whom  they  owe  existence, 
to  smooth  their  thorny  pathway  to  the  tomb,  and 
prove  faithful  and  true  to  these  filial  bonds  through 
aU  scenes  of  joy  or  sorrow,  till  parents  lie  speechless 
in  the  cold  embrace  of  death. 

It  deserves  to  be  borne  in  mind,  that  the  true  char- 
acter of  a person  is  not  what  it  appears  to  be  in  the 
community,  so  much  as  what  it  is  in  the  family. 
Here  the  unlovely  or  shining  attributes  develop  them- 
selves unrestrained,  and  the  person  appears  in  his 
undisguised  character.  A disobedient  son,  or  un- 
grateful daughter,  may  appear  in  charming  loveliness 
before  a witnessing  world.  His  or  her  intrinsic  worth 
is  not  to  be  estimated  by  appearances  abroad ; but 
by  the  qualities  which  are  prominent  at  home. 
Thus  estimating  moral  character,  deception  will 
seldom  mislead. 

While  lack  of  devotion  to  parents  is  ominous  of 
future  and  greater  evil,  the  opposite  is  ominous  of 
future  and  augmented  good.  For  filial  love  softens 


106 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


the  heart,  and  sweetens  the  disposition.  It  smooths 
that  common  roughness  of  manner,  and  polishes  that 
common  asperity  of  character,  which  become  revolt- 
ing with  advancing  years.  The  son  who  sacredly 
keeps  the  commandment,  “ honor  thy  father  and 
mother,”  is  emphatically  a “ child  of  promise.”  There 
is  needed  no  policy  of  insurance  upon  his  morals  to 
preserve  him  in  the  path  of  virtue.  We  ask  no 
prophet’s  ken  to  descry  the  blessings  that  will  crown 
his  manhood.  In  this  single  virtue  of  his  youth  we 
may  have  the  key  to  his  future  character.  This  an- 
tedates his  future  “ rise  and  progress.”  This  is  the 
bright  forerunner  of  a train  of  virtuous  deeds  that 
will  adorn  his  life,  — the  angel-heralder  of  other 
graces  which  are  sure  to  cluster  around  the  faith- 
ful, filial  heart.  Exceptions  to  this  rule,  dark  and 
terrible,  may  arise ; but  we  speak  of  what  is  gen- 
erally true. 

Proper  attention  to  the  duties  of  the  filial  relation 
will  not  go  unrewarded.  There  is  such  a beautiful 
spirit  evinced  in  this  regard  for  parents,  that,  without 
any  practical  demonstration,  we  should  expect  it 
would  share  the  unqualified  admiration  of  men. 
The  Scriptures  beautifully  exhibit  this  loveliness  in 
the  following  figurative  language.  “ ]\Iy  son,  hear 
the  insti'uction  of  thy  father,  and  forsake  not  the  law 
of  thy  mother.  For  they  shall  be  an  ornament  of 
grace  unto  thy  head,  and  chains  about  thy  neck. 
Bind  them  continually  upon  thy  heart,  and  tie 
them  about  thy  neck.”  Like  the  costly  decorations 
that  are  employed  to  increase  the  charms  of  the  hu- 
man form,  so  shall  these  parental  counsels,  faithfully 
lived,  be  as  the  embellishments  of  taste  and  art  to 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


107 


win  the  admiration  of  men.  Yea,  they  shall  outlast 
all  that  is  rich  and  tasteful  in  artificial  decorations  ; 
for  the  finery  of  gold  and  silver  will  tarnish,  and  jew- 
els waste  with  other  material  things ; but  these  orna- 
ments, which  adorn  the  soul,  are  imperishable. 

Enough  has  been  said  already,  to  show  that 
neither  God  nor  man  has  been  unmindful  of  this 
fidelity  to  parents.  The  glowing  record  that  history 
makes  of  the  faithfulness  of  Alexander  and  Wash- 
ington to  their  mothers,  shows  with  what  benedic- 
tions this  virtue  is  rewarded.  The  boy  who  stood 
upon  the  burning  deck  of  a ship  at  the  battle  of  the 
Nile,  cried,  amid  the  din  of  a thousand  voices  calling 
upon  him  to  come  away,  father,  shall  I come  ? ” 
But  his  father  was  aheady  wrapt  in  the  rushing 
flames,  and  the  obedient  boy  waited  for  his  bid- 
ding, till  he  was  wapt  in  a windingsheet  of  fire. 
Successive  generations  have  paid  a cheerful  tribute 
of  honor  to  the  memory  of  the  faithful  boy. 

In  every  age  and  nation,  we  discover  enduring 
memorials  of  the  true  in  this  connection.  The  Chi- 
nese were  wont  to  erect  monuments,  and  rear  tri- 
umphal arches,  in  honor  of  children,  who  distin- 
guished themselves  in  devotion  to  parents.  The 
ancient  Greeks  and  Romans  dedicated  magnifi- 
cent temples  to  those  who  ranked  high  for  the  same 
virtue.  The  Turks  honor  their  mothers  more  than 
their  wives.  Their  language  is,  “wives  may  die, 
and  we  can  replace  them ; children  perish,  and  others 
may  be  born  to  us ; but  who  shall  restore  the  mother 
when  she  passes,  and  is  seen  no  more  ? ” The  heroic 
manner  in  which  .^neas  bore  his  infirm  father  from 
the  flames  of  Troy  won  for  himself  the  title  of  “ the 


108 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


pious  ^neas.”  A Roman  daughter,  privileged  to 
visit  her  imprisoned  father,  who  was  condemned  to 
be  starved  to  death,  nourished  him  at  her  own 
breasts.  The  Senate  were  so  much  impressed  mth 
this  devotion  to  a suffering  parent,  that  they  deereed 
the  father  should  be  restored  to  his  child,  and  that  a 
temple  should  be  erected  to  filial  piety,  on  the  spot 
where  the  prison  stood.  Titus  Manhus,  by  his 
marked  devotion  to  his  father,  saved  him  from  a 
Roman  prison,  and  won  the  supreme  honors  of  the 
State.  Cassar  spared  the  infirm  old  jMetellus  from 
severe  punishment,  out  of  regard  for  the  filial  piety 
of  his  son.  For  the  same  reason,  hlontesquieu  re- 
warded two  young  Frenchmen,  by  dehvering  their 
father  from  the  galleys  of  Tripoli,  whither  he  had 
been  taken  by  pirates,  and  sold  for  a slave.  Gustavus 
III.,  king  of  Sweden,  rewarded  a poor  peasant  girl, 
toiling  to  support  her  crippled  mother,  “ by  setthng  a 
pension  for  life  upon  the  mother,  with  the  reversion 
to  her  daughter  at  her  death.”  The  tribute  which 
the  historian  pays  to  Epaminondas,  one  of  the 
greatest  generals,  and  best  men,  which  Greece  ever 
produced,  is  a fair  illustration  of  the  feefings  of  man- 
kind upon  this  subject.  He  had  declared  that  he  de- 
rived more  satisfaction  from  the  thought,  that  his 
victories  would  afford  joy  to  his  father  and  mother, 
than  he  did  from  the  honors  which  men  bestowed 
upon  him  as  a triumphant  conqueror ; and  in  view 
of  this  filial  love,  RoUin  says,  “ Nothing  in  history 
seems  so  valuable  to  me  as  such  sentiments,  which 
do  honor  to  human  nature,  and  proceed  from  a 
heart  which  neither  false  glory  nor  false  greatness 
has  corrupted.  I confess  it  with  grief,  I see  these 


THE  FILIAL  EBLATION. 


109 


noble  sentiments  daily  expire  among  us,  especially 
in  persons  where  birth  and  rank  raise  them  above 
others,  who  too  frequently  are  neither  good  fathers, 
good  sons,  good  husbands,  nor  good  friends  ; and 
who  would  think  it  a disgrace  to  express  for  a father 
and  a mother  the  tender  regard  of  which  we  have 
here  so  fine  an  example  from  the  pagan  above 
mentioned  ? ” 

But  no  richer  reward  of  filial  devotion  can  be  en- 
joyed than  the  satisfaction  experienced  in  witnessing 
the  increased  happiness  it  affords  to  parents  them- 
selves, in  their  last  days.  No  purer  delight,  save 
that  which  is  spiritual,  ever  refreshes  a parent’s 
heart,  than  this  which  results  from  filial  attention. 
The  living  evidence  of  it  to  children  regales  their 
minds  with  delightful  recollections,  when  parents 
repose  in  the  dust.  It  is  one  of  those  blest  remem- 
brancers which  we  love  to  cherish.  An  Eastern  lady 
being  about  to  start  upon  a journey,  invited  her  three 
sons  to  furnish  her  with  an  expression  of  their  love. 
One  presented  her  with  a marble  tablet,  having  her 
name  inscribed  upon  it ; another  brought  her  a large 
and  beautiful  bouquet ; and  the  third  thus  addressed 
her,  “ Mother,  I have  neither  marble  tablet  nor  fra- 
grant nosegay,  but  I have  a heart ; here  your  name 
is  engraved,  here  your  memory  is  precious,  and  this 
heart,  full  of  affection,  will  follow  you  wherever  you 
travel,  and  remain  with  you  wherever  you  repose.” 
Which  was  the  more  acceptable  present  we  need 
not  say.  Which  afforded  the  greater  pleasure  may 
be  easily  determined. 

Age,  I repeat,  finds  no  sweeter  fountain  of  bliss, 
than  that  which  is  opened  by  the  grateful  devotion 

10 


110 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


of  children,  excepting  only  the  fountain  of  living 
waters.  And  how  delightful  to  feel  that  we  are  the 
happy  instruments  of  such  joy  to  those  we  love.  It 
is  a pleasant  memory  to  bear  amid  the  reverses  of 
life,  and  carry  with  us  to  the  grave.  Pompmus 
Atticus  was  accustomed  to  express  the  satisfaction 
which  he  derived  from  his  fiJial  faithfulness,  in  the 
followuig  eccentric  manner.  Though  he  had  lived 
with  his  mother  sixty-seven  years,  he  said,  “ I was 
never  once  reconciled  to  her,  because  there  never 
happened  the  least  discord  between  us ; and,  conse- 
quently, there  was  no  need  of  a reconcUiation.”  It 
was  evidently  a source  of  great  satisfaction  to  the 
distinguished  Roman. 

The  judgments  of  God  generally  overtake  unfaith- 
ful, disobedient  children.  Rev.  Phihp  Henry,  once 
speaking  to  his  children  of  the  ■fucked  son  of  a 
neighbor,  who  treated  his  parents  wdth  disrespect, 
charged  them  to  mark  the  dealings  of  God  with  him. 
“ Perhaps,”  said  he,  “ I may  not  live  to  see  it,  but  do 
you  take  notice,  whether  God  do  not  come  upon  him 
with  some  remarkable  judgment  in  this  life,  accord- 
ing to  the  threatening  implied  in  the  reason  annexed 
to  the  fifth  commandment.”  But  he  lived  to  see 
the  prophecy  fulfilled  by  a very  striking  Providence. 
The  Rev.  Herbert  Palmer,  B.  D.,  Master  of  Queen’s 
College,  Cambridge,  said,  “ that  he  had  noticed  the 
effects  of  disobedience  to  parents,  so  that  he  scarcely 
ever  knew  undutiful  children  escape  some  visible 
judgment  of  God  in  the  present  fife.”  A careful 
observation  ■udU  satisfy  the  most  incredulous  of 
the  truth  of  these  remarks.  Within  the  circle  of 
every  reader’s  acquaintance  are  undutiful  sons,  upon 


THE  FILIAL  RELATION. 


Ill 


whom  is  now  resting  the  undoubted  curse  of  God. 
The  evidence  is  wellnigh  as  striking  and  unmis- 
takable, as  the  mark  that  God  imprinted  upon  the 
forehead  of  Cain.  And  it  is  a matter  of  surprise, 
that  the  disobedient  themselves  do  not  recognize  the 
pursuing  vengeance  of  Jehovah,  and  flee  to  find  a 
refuge  in  repentance  from  his  consuming  wrath. 

Behold  Absalom,  violating  every  impulse  of  nat- 
ural afiection,  and  pursuing  his  father  with  a deadly 
hate,  as  if  he  were  his  mortal  enemy ! Follow  his 
secret  plottings  to  usurp  the  throne  at  the  expense 
of  his  father’s  life ! Trace  his  diabolical  schemes  as 
they  become  developed  in  the  rapid  evolutions  of 
time,  — the  foul  machinations  not  only  of  a rebel- 
lious son,  but  of  a parricide  and  murderer!  And 
then  behold  him,  hanging  upon  the  bough  of  an  oak 
by  the  hair  of  his  head,  with  the  three  swift  javelins 
of  the  mighty  Joab  sticking  in  his  heart — a wretched 
victim  to  his  own  base  ambition  and  cruelty  — and 
say,  if  here  is  not  a Divine  judgment  upon  a disobe- 
dient and  unnatural  son ! 

Could  my  voice  reach  a disobedient  son,  I would 
address  him  thus  : — “ How  dare  you  trifle  with  the 
commandments  of  God  ? How  dare  you  resist  the 
pleadings  of  such  love  as  lives  only  in  a parent’s 
heart?  Has  nature  denied  you  the  common  share 
of  tenderness  and  sensibility  ? Has  contact  with  a 
vAcked  world  stifled  the  loveliest  emotions,  and 
changed  yom-  heart  to  stone  ? Care  you  not  for  the 
deep  wounds  which  you  inflict  upon  the  heart  of  the 
mother  who  bore  you  ? Do  you  glory  in  running 
counter  to  the  wishes  of  the  father  who  would  lay 
down  his  life  to  save  you  from  the  prison  or  the 


112 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


gallows  ? Tremble,  then,  for  the  deep  depravity 
which  lurks  in  your  soul.  Prepare  to  meet  the  scath- 
ing, withering  maledictions  of  an  incensed  world. 
Expect,  for  the  doom  will  surely  come,  to  be  ban- 
ished from  the  hearts  and  circles  of  the  wise  and 
virtuous.  Make  ready  for  the  fearful  judgments 
that  win  descend  upon  your  future  days.  Dread  to 
behold  and  experience,  in  the  course  of  Prowdence, 
your  probable  destiny  of  ill.  Imagine  yourself  be- 
side the  coffined  remains  of  those  whom  you  now 
refuse  to  obey.  Live  for  a moment  in  the  melan- 
choly hour  that  wih  leave  you  parentless,  with  no 
opportunity  to  whisper  in  the  ear,  forgive ! Con- 
ceive of  the  regrets  that  will  harrow  your  soul,  when 
you  behold  their  eyes  close  in  sorrow  upon  your  dis- 
obedience, and  the  grave  receive  them  to  its  cold  and 
cheerless  bed ! Fear  to  meet  the  piercing  eye  of 
yom-  Judge,  and  the  retributions  of  the  future  world ; 
for  the  penalty  annexed  to  the  fifth  commandment 
bides  your  death ! 

Christ  enforced,  by  his  pure  example,  the  duties  of 
the  fihal  relation.  He  was  himself  a perfect  pattern 
of  obedience  to  parents.  No  blemish  marred  the 
beauty  of  his  filial  character.  No  scenes  in  his 
chequered,  suffermg  life,  caused  him  to  neglect  his 
duties  as  a son.  Until  he  was  tliirty  years  of  age, 
he  was  subject  to  his  parents,  — a dutiful  son  of  the 
family,  never  weary  of  toiling  for  their  bliss,  never 
reluctant  to  obey  their  counsels.  He  cherished  the 
grateful  feelings  of  a son  when  in  the  judgment-hall 
of  Pilate,  and  remembered  and  proHded  for  his 
mother  amid  the  agonies  of  the  cross. 


V. 

THE  FRATERNAL  RELATION. 


“ A Tinion  in  partition ; — 

Two  seeming  bodies,  but  one  heart.” 

Shakspeare. 

“ They  were  together  night  and  day 
Through  all  their  early  years  — 

Had  the  same  fancies,  feelings,  thoughts, 

Joys,  sorrows,  hopes,  and  fears ; 

They  had  a fellowship  of  smiles, 

A fellowship  of  tears.”  Anon. 


The  Scriptures  are  comparatively  silent  concern- 
ing this  relation  in  the  family,  as  if  a recognition  of 
its  important  duties  were  taken  for  granted.  The 
ties  of  nature  are  reason  enough  for  an  indissoluble 
bond  of  union  between  brothers  and  sisters.  Hu- 
manity revolts  at  a disregard  of  the  bond  which  God 
has  instituted  between  these  kindred  hearts.  Indeed, 
the  feeling  of  abhorrence  is  awakened  towards  those 
families  among  the  lower  order  of  animals  which 
live  and  die  in  quarrels.  It  is  so  unnatural  and 
heartless,  that  every  reflecting  mind  expresses  pro- 
found astonishment  at  the  sight.  The  fact  that  two 
individuals  are  children  of  the  same  parents,  hav- 
ing kindred  blood  coursing  through  their  veins, 

10*  (113) 


114 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


and  common  interests  at  stake,  is  sufficient  basis 
upon  which  to  rest  all  the  fraternal  obhgations  of 
which  we  may  speak. 

There  is  no  sadder  sight  on  earth,  than  that  of 
brothers  and  sisters,  dwelling  together  under  the 
same  roof,  coheirs  by  Divine  appointment  in  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  hfe,  alienated  from  each  other 
by  reason  of  domestic  feuds.  There  is  no  scene 
more  lovely  than  that  of  brothers  and  sisters  devoted 
to  each  other’s  happiness.  “ Behold  how  good  and 
how  pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in 
unity!  It  is  hke  the  precious  ointment  upon  the 
head,  that  ran  down  upon  his  beard,  even  Aaron’s 
beard ; that  went  down  to  the  skirts  of  his  garment ; 
as  the  dew  of  Hermon,  and  the  dew  that  descended 
upon  the  mountains  of  Zion  ; for  there  the  Lord 
commanded  the  blessing ; even  life  forevermore.” 
Yet,  the  brotherhood  and  sisterhood  of  farnihes 
often  present  a singular  exhibition  of  estranged 
hearts.  These,  in  common  with  all  the  ties  of  hfe, 
share  in  the  sad  results  of  the  fall.  Every  neigh- 
borhood can  furnish  one  or  more  iUustrations  of 
the  envy,  jealousy,  mahce,  strife,  one  or  aU,  which 
have  made  the  fraternal  relation  the  occasion  of 
much  domestic  sorrow. 

I have  seen  brothers  and  sisters  dwelling  together 
in  the  same  town  ; yet  living  apart  from  the  ordinary 
intercourse  of  relatives,  and  even  so  ahenated  from 
each  other,  as  to  forego  entirely  the  mterchange  of 
friendly  visits.  Nay,  more ; I have  seen  them  ar- 
rayed against  each  other  wdth  a hosthity  that  pre- 
cluded even  a friendly  recognition,  and  allowed  no 
word  of  salutation  on  meeting  in  the  street.  I have 


THE  FRATERNAL  RELATION. 


115 


seen  the  wealthy  brother,  retired  from  the  cares  of  a 
prosperous  business,  without  a family  of  his  own  for 
which  to  provide,  yielding  himself  up  to  the  servile 
control  of  a penmious  habit,  and  leaving  an  invalid 
sister  to  suffer  in  want,  or  find  relief  in  the  charity 
of  others.  I have  seen  another,  a man  in  the  state 
of  “ single  blessedness,”  summing  in  his  possessions 
some  twenty  thousand  dollars,  yet  bequeathing  aU 
his  property,  at  his  death,  to  his  native  town,  with 
the  exception  of  a pittance  to  a suffering  sister,  for 
whom  a sum  ten  times  as  large  would  have  been  a 
scanty  provision.  I have  seen  yet  another,  a brother 
to  whom  the  Lord  had  given  a competency  of  this 
world’s  goods,  endeavoring  to  make  a maiden  sister’s 
portion  of  the  paternal  legacy  his  own,  by  every  pos- 
sible “ hook  and  crook  ” of  the  law.  I have  read  of 
another,  a famed  millionaire,  who,  among  other  gifts 
for  the  public  weal,  endowed  a college,  leaving  to  a 
needy  brother  only  just  enough  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mands of  the  law. 

Such  a want  of  natural  affection  is  dishonorable 
to  human  nature,  and  merits  the  unqualified  censure 
of  mankind.  We  scarcely  find  its  counterpart  among 
the  brutes  that  perish.  Seen  thus  in  manhood,  it  is 
decisive  evidence  of  an  unbrotherly  youth,  the  legiti- 
mate fruit  of  unkindness  and  want  of  love  in  early 
life.  He  who,  in  matm-e  years,  can  see  a brother  or 
sister  suffer  when  he  has  the  means  to  relieve,  was 
doubtless  a tyrannizing,  heartless  brother  in  his  youth. 
Had  he  cultivated  a tender  and  loving  spirit,  in  the 
morning  of  life,  toward  those  of  his  father’s  house- 
hold, he  would  not  have  become  an  alien  at  heart 
from  the  same  Idndred  circle,  in  age. 


116 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Among  the  causes  of  rupture  and  unhappiness  in 
the  fraternal  relation  may  be  found  the  following. 

An  unforgiving  spuit.  In  the  little  community  of 
home,  forbearance  is  as  necessary  as  it  is  anywhere 
in  the  wide  world.  Disparity  in  respect  to  natural 
and  acquired  endowments,  varying  tastes  and  habits, 
dissimilar  temperaments  and  dispositions,  conflicting 
thoughts  and  desires,  will  aU  be  embodied  in  living 
acts,  to  engender  strife,  unless  much  is  overlooked. 
Much  transpires,  in  almost  any  company  of  brothers 
and  sisters,  to  arouse  the  spirit  of  retahation,  rmless 
each  is  forward  to  forgive.  The  quick,  nerv’ous, 
peevish  brother  or  sister,  who  meets  every  breach  of 
fraternal  Idndness  and  good-wiU  wdth  the  frown  and 
language  of  opposition,  pm'sues  a policy  w^hich  is 
sure  to  banish  peace  from  the  family.  The  proof  is 
found  in  every  neighborhood.  An  unforgiving  spirit 
is  as  prevalent  MT-th  children  as  with  strangers.  Hu- 
man nature  does  not  always  stop  to  inquire,  whether 
the  offender  is  a brother  or  sister.  Hot  haste  stim- 
ulates the  mind,  and  it  moves  rashly.  An  overt  act 
is  resisted  wdth  angry  words  and  stormy  rebuke,  if 
not  with  blows.  Here  the  warfare  begins,  and  where 
it  ends  we  cannot  aKvays  teU,  until  we  learn  the  dis- 
position it  cultivates  for  age.  Possibly  it  may  de- 
velop into  a character  as  base  and  criminal  as  that 
described  in  the  following  verse  of  Dr.  Watts  : — 

“ Hard  names,  at  first,  and  threatening  words. 

That  are  but  noisy  breath. 

May  grow  to  clubs  and  naked  swords. 

To  murder,  and  to  death.” 

An  unbridled  temper  mars  the  union  of  brothers 


THE  ERATEBNAL  RELATION. 


117 


and  sisters.  In  childhood  and  youth,  this  is  a very 
general  cause  of  strife.  The  views,  feelings,  or  wishes 
are  crossed,  and  in  a moment  reason  loses  its  bal- 
ance, and  passion  lowers  and  storms.  Peace  departs 
from  the  entire  circle  until  the  tempest  of  wrath  is 
spent,  and  often  for  succeeding  hours  and  days.  It 
is  painful  to  witness  the  frequent  outbursts  of  wrath 
which  occur  among  some  families  of  children. 
Scarcely  a day,  Sabbath  not  excepted,  passes  over 
their  heads,  without  some  signal  display  of  uncurbed 
temper.  In  consequence,  they  live  in  quarrels,  cul- 
tivate morose  and  turbulent  dispositions,  and  never 
learn  from  experience  the  joys  of  true  fraternal  love. 
The  memories  of  many  adults  will  furnish,  from 
their  early  hves,  numerous  illustrations  of  the  disas- 
trous influence  of  temper  upon  the  intercourse  of 
brothers  and  sisters. 

What  is  commonly  called  teasing,  or  tormenting 
one  another  for  some  natural  or  acquired  fault,  is 
another  cause  of  strife  in  families.  A brother  is 
bashful  and  awkward,  and  this  gives  rise  to  many  a 
fling  from  a proud,  affected  sister.  Or  a sister  is 
vain  and  haughty,  and  this  is  the  occasion  of  smart 
retorts  from  an  unassuming  brother.  One  is  dull 
and  stupid,  intellectually;  another  is  peevish  from 
constitutional  weakness ; and  another  is  ungener- 
ous ; all  of  which  often  elicit  biting  sarcasm,  broad 
implications,  inuendos,  and  reproofs,  to  create  alien- 
ation and  perpetuate  conflict. 

Envy  sometimes  acts  a contemptible  part.  One 
brother  enjoys  a more  eligible  situation  than  another, 
because  of  some  peculiar  endowments  or  circum- 
stances. More  responsibility  is  laid  upon  him  by 


118 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


the  father.  Perhaps  he  is  in  the  store  or  counting- 
room,  while  his  brother  is  on  the  farm,  or  in  the 
workshop.  He  may  be  a student,  and  his  brother  a 
mechanic.  Here  envy  finds  abundant  occasion  to 
complain,  and  create  discontent.  Even  a disparity 
in  respect  to  moral  elevation,  sometimes  arouses  this 
malicious  propensity.  On  this  account,  envy  broke 
the  harmony  that  existed  between  the  first  two 
brothers.  Envious  Cain  slew  his  brother  Abel,  and 
thus  took  upon  his  soul  the  fearful  guilt  of  fratricide. 
Envy  plotted  this  murder,  and  received  at  the  hand 
of  God  its  ill-desert.  It  is  too  often  true,  that  par- 
ental favoritism  creates  this  envious  spirit.  A 
brother  or  sister  is  petted  and  indulged  beyond  the 
measure  meted  out  to  others.  Envy,  toward  such  a 
one,  is  sure  to  display  its  spite.  Jacob  had  his  fa- 
vorite — Joseph.  The  brothers  saw  it,  and  envied 
him  his  portion.  His  accumulated  sufferings,  thrilfing 
almost  beyond  the  tales  of  fiction,  was  the  fearful 
result. 

“ O Envy  ! liide  thy  bosom,  hide  it  deep. 

A thousand  snakes,  with  black,  envenomed  mouths, 

Nest  there,  and  hiss,  and  feed  through  all  thy  heart.” 

Property,  inherited,  has  destroyed  the  peace  and 
harmony  of  families.  From  the  moment  the  pa- 
rents are  laid  in  the  grave,  and  the  “ clods  of  the 
valley  ” close  over  their  remains,  there  is  frequently 
one  perpetual  scene  of  strife  and  contention  among 
the  children  about  the  property.  The  memory  of 
loving  parents  is  lost  amid  the  hard  words,  and 
harder  feelings  and  thoughts,  which  are  engendered. 
A stranger  would  never  dream  that  the  alienated 


THE  FRATERNAL  RELATION. 


119 


parties  were  the  children  of  the  same  parents.  Es- 
pecially, his  conclusion  would  not  be  thus  favorable 
when  he  learned,  what  has  more  than  once  been  true, 
that  their  animosity  was  indulged  to  such  a degree, 
that  neither  would  rear  a monumental  pile  above  the 
grave  of  the  father.  Property  has  been  known  to 
occasion  such  bitter  feelings  towards  a brother,  as 
to  lead  the  disaffected  one  to  refuse  to  attend  his 
funeral. 

Marriage  has  introduced  discord  into  the  family. 
A sister’s  husband,  or  a brother’s  wife,  has  some  sup- 
posed or  real  peculiarity,  and  it  becomes  a “ bone  of 
contention.”  It  is  more  difficult  to  exercise  forbear- 
ance toward  a brother-in-law,  or  a sister-in-law,  than 
toward  their  companions.  Hence  the  bitterness  and 
hostility  which  marriage  frequently  occasions.  Fam- 
ilies, hitherto  united,  have  parted  with  their  mutual 
devotion  at  this  point.  It  is  natural  for  a wife  to 
sympathize  with  her  husband,  and  a husband  with 
his  wife,  so  that  he  or  she  becomes  arrayed  against 
the  brothers  or  sisters  who  are  unfriendly  to  them. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem.  Religion  has  been  made 
the  occasion  of  some  sad  results.  A sister  becomes 
a Christian,  and  unites  with  the  church.  A brother 
now  turns  persecutor,  and  follows  her  with  ridicule 
and  sneers.  As  if  it  were  a real  reproach  to  her 
character  — a compromise  of  dignity,  and  a mark  of 
weakness  — he  appears  to  be  mortified,  and  ashamed, 
that  such  a step  should  be  taken  by  a sister ! He  is 
fretted  and  harassed  by  it  almost  beyond  endurance. 
His  love  abates,  his  politeness  departs,  and  he  treats 
her  with  cold  neglect  and  unkindness  ! Such  guilty 


120 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


wretches  survive,  even  as  brothers.  It  is  almost  too 
foul  a blot  upon  humanity  to  believe,  yet  the  lamen- 
table truth  is  forced  upon  our  observation. 

In  contrast  with  the  above,  let  us  briefly  notice 
some  of  the  virtues  which  belong  to  the  fraternal 
relation. 

Strong  attachment.  This  ought  to  exist  as  the 
fruit  of  natural  ties.  But  if  nature  cannot  love,  then 
brothers  and  sisters  ought  to  love  from  principle. 
John  Angell  James  says,  “ A family  of  grown  up 
children  should  be  the  constant  scene  of  uninter- 
rupted harmony,  where  love,  guided  by  ingenuity, 
puts  forth  all  its  powers  to  please,  by  those  mutual 
good  offices,  and  minor  acts  of  beneficence,  of  wliich 
every  day  furnishes  the  opportunity,  and  which, 
while  they  cost  little  in  the  way  either  of  money  or 
labor,  contribute  so  much  to  the  happiness  of  the 
household.  One  of  the  most  delightful  sights  in  our 
world,  where  there  is  so  much  moral  deformity  to 
disgust  and  so  much  unkindness  to  distress,  is  a 
domestic  circle,  where  the  parents  are  surrounded  by 
their  children,  of  which,  the  daughters  are  being 
employed  in  elegant  or  useful  work,  and  the  elder 
brother  some  instructive  and  improxdng  volume,  for 

the  benefit  or  entertainment  of  the  whole 

Young  people,  seek  your  happiness  in  each  other’s 
society.  What  can  the  brother  find  in  the  circle  of 
dissipation,  or  amongst  the  votaries  of  intemperance, 
to  compare  with  this  ? What  can  the  sister  find  in 
the  concert  of  sweet  sounds,  that  has  music  for  the 
soul,  compared  with  this  domestic  harmony  ? or  in 
the  glitter  of  fashionable  confusion,  and  mazy  dance 


THE  FRATEBNAL  RELATION. 


121 


of  the  ball-room,  compared  with  these  pure,  calm,  se- 
questered joys,  which  are  to  be  found  at  the  fireside 
of  a happy  family  ? ” 

Mutual  politeness  promotes  a refinement  of  feel- 
ing, which  contributes  much  to  the  strength  of  the 
fraternal  bond.  This  relates  to  the  words  and  phrases, 
the  temper  and  manner  of  address.  It  infuses  a sort 
of  fidelity  into  the  entire  intercourse,  and  surrounds 
it  with  an  aU-pervading  charm.  It  is  delightful  to  be 
a guest  in  such  a family.  In  contrast  with  the 
coarse,  unaffectionate  modes  of  address  so  generally 
observed,  it  presents  a most  pleasing  view  of  the 
family. 

Brothers  and  sisters  ought,  also,  to  confide  their 
purposes  and  wants,  their  joys  and  sorrows,  to  each 
other.  This  remark  may  not  apply,  without  some 
qualifications,  only  while  they  dwell  together  under 
the  paternal  roof.  K a brother  is  secret  and  sly  in 
his  various  movements  for  pleasure  or  profit,  and 
thus  shows  that  he  distrusts  the  other  youthful  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  he  has  already  furnished  occasion 
for  mutual  recrimination.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  is  frank  and  open  to  avow  his  intentions,  and  dis- 
plays an  honorable  confidence  in  the  fraternal  circle, 
and  this  same  feeling  becomes  mutual  and  general 
in  the  family,  it  is  evident  that  affection,  concord, 
and  peace  will  happily  thrive. 

As  the  fruit  of  love,  there  is  often  witnessed  a 
mutual  devotion  among  near  friends,  which  is  as  dis- 
interested as  any  thing  to  be  found  in  this  wicked 
world.  This  devotion,  wherever  it  is  seen,  is  the 
kind  of  consecration  which  children  ought  to  make 
of  aU  their  powers  to  each  other’s  happiness.  It  is  a 
11 


122 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


mutual  study  to  contribute  to  the  weal  of  the 
whole.  It  not  only  perceives,  but  anticipates  wants. 
It  is  earnest  in  prosperity ; it  is  profoundly  self-de- 
nying in  adversity.  It  is  whole-hearted  in  health ; 
it  is  more  tender  in  sickness.  It  is  the  embodiment 
of  love,  kindness,  generosity,  sympathy,  and  kindred 
virtues  into  loving  acts. 

There  are  other  characteristics  of  a felicitous,  fra- 
ternal bond,  some  of  which  may  be  learned  from 
the  causes  which  disturb  the  harmony  of  families, 
aheady  considered.  If  an  unforgiving  spirit  is  the 
cause  of  ruptures  in  the  fraternal  relation,  then  its 
opposite  must  be  conducive  to  peace  and  harmony. 
If  envy,  or  an  unbridled  temper,  ever  mar  the  other- 
wise peaceful  intercourse  of  brothers  and  sisters, 
then  their  antagonistic  qualities  wiU  contribute  to 
their  blissful  companionship.  And  so  the  opposite 
of  whatever  tends  to  sever  the  tie  in  question  wdll 
always  prove  a mutual  blessing  in  the  family. 

It  may  be  added,  that  brothers  and  sisters  ought 
always  to  bear  in  mind  the  nature  and  importance  of 
the  duties  they  owe  to  each  other.  Unless  thought 
and  profound  reflection  are  devoted  to  the  above 
essential  requisites,  it  wiU  be  scarcely  possible  to 
meet  the  demands  of  duty;  and  yet,  very  little 
thought  is  expended  upon  this  important  subject  by 
those  who  are  most  deeply  concerned.  How  few 
children  stop  to  reflect,  that  their  conduct  must  par- 
take of  such  a character,  in  order  to  promote  their 
mutual  felicity!  How  few  study  to  learn  exactly 
what  they  must  do,  and  hc^^  they  must  feel,  in  order 
to  avoid  alienations  and  confliet!  How  few  are 
principled  to  walk  in  a studied,  specified  course  in 


THE  FRATERNAL  RELATION. 


123 


respect  to  these  duties ! The  mass  of  children,  older 
or  younger,  rather  leave  their  fraternal  conduct  to  be 
decided  by  the  “ spur  of  the  moment ; ” and  not  until 
these  very  important  considerations  are  pondered  with 
more  concern,  wdl  the  harmony  of  households  be 
promoted. 

Let  the  above  suggestions  be  put  into  consistent 
practice,  and  the  family  would  possess  attractions 
for  every  son  and  daughter.  Fewer  youth  and 
young  men  would  seek  their  evening  pastime  away 
from  home,  at  the  shops  and  stores,  at  the  gaming 
board  or  theatre.  Fewer  sisters  would  desire  the 
gay  assembly,  or  the  ball-room.  The  sister  would 
not  drive  away  the  brother  to  haunts  of  dissipation, 
to  find  a happiness  which  could  not  be  had  at  home ; 
nor  would  the  brother  become  the  occasion  of  a 
sister’s  fondness  for  the  soireii  and  dance.  Home 
would  become  the  centre  of  hopes,  socialities,  and 
pleasures,  such  as  meet  the  wants  of  nature,  satisfy 
the  conscience,  and  please  God.  So  would  the  lan- 
guage which  Shakespeare  puts  into  the  mouths  of 
two  devoted  sisters,  find  a complete  illustration : — 

“ So  we  grew  together, 

Like  to  a double  cherry,  seeming  parted. 

But  yet  a union  in  partition. 

Two  lovely  berries  moulded  on  one  stem ; 

So,  with  two  seeming  bodies,  but  one  heart.” 

Sacred  history  furnishes  an  eminent  example  of 
devotion  to  fraternal  duties.  It  is  the  familiar  in- 
stance of  Joseph.  If  a brother  ever  had  a provoca- 
tion to  disregard  the  ties  of  kindred,  and  harden  his 
heart  against  those  of  his  father’s  household,  it  was 


124 


LITE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


he.  Greater  injuries  were  never  inflicted  upon  a 
brother,  and  seldom  upon  a stranger.  Seized  when 
abroad  upon  an  errand  of  kindness,  wdth  the  intention 
of  murdering  him  outright;  then  plunged  into  a pit 
to  die  a horrible  death  ; and  finally,  all  previous  fell 
designs  being  forsaken,  sold  as  a slave,  wdthout  the 
hope  of  being  dehvered  from  perpetual  bondage ; 
this  was  the  hard  usage  which  Joseph  experienced  at 
the  hands  of  his  wicked  brothers.  We  can  scarcely 
conceive  of  wrongs  more  terrible  to  be  inflicted  or 
endured.  The  spirit  which  prompted  such  great 
cruelties  must  have  been  malignant  and  fiendish  in 
the  extreme.  Yet,  through  the  whole,  how  amiable 
and  gentle  was  the  youthful  sufierer ! How  meek, 
how  lovely,  how  patient,  how  forgiving ! How  httle 
like  the  retaliating,  revengeful  multitude  of  the 
human  family ! And  after  a long  experience  of 
hardship  in  the  land  of  bondage,  an  experience  cal- 
culated to  make  him  more  keenly  alive  to  his  inju- 
ries, how  lovely,  affectionate,  and  forgiving  still ! 
When  the  guilty  brothers,  driven  by  the  pressure  of 
famine,  sought  relief  at  his  hands,  after  a kind  Provi- 
dence had  made  him  ruler  of  Egypt,  how  true  and 
faithful,  how  generous-hearted ! Who  can  read  the 
story  of  that  pathetic  interview,  — Joseph  melted  to 
tears,  receiving  to  his  embrace  his  murderous  breth- 
ren, assuring  them  that  he  cherishes  aU  the  feelings 
of  a brother  still,  loading  them  with  provisions  to 
carry  back  to  their  native  land,  and  parting  with 
them  as  lovingly  as  if  they  had  never  attempted  to 
sever  the  fraternal  tie,  — who,  I ask,  can  read  this 
without  a more  exalted  opinion  of  a faithful  brother  ? 
When  he  had  the  offenders  within  his  power,  and 


THE  PRATBENAL  RELATION. 


125 


might  have  condemned  them  to  an  ignominious 
death,  or  consigned  them  to  hopeless  bondage  or  im- 
prisonment, his  noble  heart  was  moved  by  the  im- 
pulses of  natural  affection  to  forgive  their  awful 
crime,  and  receive  them  to  his  bosom.  There  is 
nothing  upon  the  pages  of  fact  or  fiction,  that  is 
more  ennobling  and  glorious  than  this.  It  awakens 
the  sentiment  of  approval  in  every  breast,  however 
untrue  itself  to  the  demands  of  the  fraternal  relation. 
It  imparts  superlative  lustre  to  the  character  of^ 
Joseph,  as  similar  fidelity  will  certainly  do  to  that  of 
any  brother  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Much  might  be  written  concerning  the  power  ol 
brothers’  and  sisters’  influence  over  each  other,  and 
many  facts  might  be  cited  by  way  of  illustration. 
But  we  quote  only  the  following.  “ That  man,” 
said  a keen  observer  of  human  nature,  pointing  to  a 
stranger  in  the  crowd,  “ has  been  brought  up  in  the 
society  of  intelligent  and  virtuous  sisters.”  “ Whence 
do  you  infer  that  ? ” said  the  person  addressed.  He 
replied,  “ because  he  exhibits  that  gentleness  and 
delicacy  of  feeling,  which  result  only  from  the  in- 
fluence of  intelligent  and  virtuous  sisters.”  The 
gifted  Irving  said,  “ often  have  I lamented  that 
Providence  denied  me  the  companionship  of  sisters. 
Often  have  I thought,  had  I been  thus  favored,  I 
should  have  been  a better  man.”  Though  the  above 
testimony  relates  only  to  a sister’s  ; yet,  the  remarks 
would  be  equally  true  if  spoken  of  a brother’s  in- 
fluence. 

Although  these  pages  were  not  penned  especially 
for  the  eye  of  childhood ; yet  this  chapter  contains 
much  which  the  child  can  understand.  Before  leav- 
11^ 


126 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


ing  the  subject,  I would  address  myself  briefly  to  any 
child  whose  eye  may  chance  to  fall  upon  these  para- 
graphs. It  is  pleasant  to  see  a family  of  Little  chil- 
dren dwelling  together  in  love,  — to  know  that  they 
are  kind,  and  strive  to  make  each  other  happy.  All 
hearts  are  pained  to  witness  strife,  and  hear  com- 
plaints, hard  words,  and  accusations'  among  little 
children,  especially  if  they  belong  to  the  same  house- 
hold. Dr.  Watts  wrote  the  following  beautiful  verse 
upon  this  matter,  — 

“ Birds  in  their  little  nests  agree ; 

And ’t  is  a shameful  sight, 

When  children  of  one  family 

Fall  out,  and  chide,  and  fight” 

I doubt  not  that  every  young  reader  agrees  t\dth 
Dr.  Watts.  And  if  so,  they  will  strive  to  cultivate 
as  strong  an  attachment  to  brothers  and  sisters,  as 
did  one  who  is  spoken  of  in  the  following  incident. 
A little  girl  in  the  island  of  Jamaica,  where  our  good 
people  send  missionaries  to  teach  the  children,  was 
in  the  school  of  Mr.  Thomas  Knibb.  Her  brother,  a 
very  active,  but  roguish  boy,  violated  the  rules  of  the 
school  by  swearing,  and,  of  course,  had  to  be  pun- 
ished. His  punishment  was  confinement  in  the 
school-room  some  hours  after  the  other  scholars  were 
dismissed.  While  Mr.  K.  was  locking  him  in,  his 
sister,  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  went  to  him,  with 
her  eyes  brimful  of  tears,  and  begged  that  she  might 
receive  the  punishment,  and  that  her  brother  might 
be  released.  Wishing  to  see  whether  the  little  girl 
was  sincere.  Air.  K.  consented ; and,  sure  enough, 
she  immediately  took  his  place  to  receive  the  pun- 


THE  FHATERNAL  RELATION. 


127 


ishment ! “ What  a land,  excellent  little  sister,”  say 

all  my  young  readers.  Will  you  not  love  your 
brothers  and  sisters  as  ardently  ? 

May  every  youth  who  reads  these  pages  have 
sufficient  regard  to  his  own  honor,  if  not  to  the  com- 
fort of  his  parents,  to  lead  him  to  be  true  in  the  fra- 
ternal relation.  Reproach  is  cast  upon  the  memory 
of  the  brother  or  sister  who  is  known  to  disregard 
these  important  claims.  They  are  less  loved  and 
respected.  So  faithful  has  an  observant  public  been 
in  honoring  the  faithful  in  these  endearing  bonds, 
that  even  history  makes  a record  of  their  virtue.  It 
is  recorded  of  Timoleon,  the  Corinthian,  that  he  was 
a noble  pattern  of  fraternal  love.  He  contended  on 
the  battle  field  with  the  Argives,  and  when  his  brother 
received  a fatal  wound  and  fell  to  the  earth,  he 
leaped  over  the  dead  body,  and,  with  his  shield,  pro- 
tected it  from  insult  and  plunder.  He  was  sadly 
wounded  in  the  undertaking,  but  would  not  retreat 
until  his  friends  had  borne  the  corpse  to  a place  of 
safety.  We  would  not  join  the  multitude  to  swell 
the  cry,  brave  Timoleon  ! but,  with  a consistent  pos- 
terity, we  would  do  honor  to  his  name,  by  joining 
the  acclamation,  ever-faithful  Timoleon ! Youthful 
reader,  if  any  truth  is  learned  from  the  history  of  the 
past,  it  is  that  men  will  honor  those  who  honor  this 
family  tie. 

A word  to  brothers  and  sisters  in  age!  Time 
multiplies  changes  in  the  household  group,  and  after 
a few  years  of  earthly  intercourse,  the  parents  pass 
away,  while  the  children  are  married,  and  become 
the  heads  of  rising  families.  All  the  ties  that  remain 
of  the  original  family  are  the  fraternal.  How  proper 


128 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


that  brothers  and  sisters,  though  living  in  different 
quarters  of  the  earth,  and  having  famUies  of  their 
own,  should  still  maintain  the  same  strong  attach- 
ment to  each  other ! How  fit  that  the  same  kind 
expressions  and  offices  of  love  should  characterize 
their  intercourse,  and  show  a devotion  which  neither 
time  nor  age  can  obliterate  ! Darius,  king  of  Persia, 
passed  sentence  of  death  upon  Intaphemes,  together 
with  all  his  children  and  his  wife’s  brother.  His 
wife  subsequently  appeared  before  the  royal  palace, 
exhibiting  every  mark  of  inconsolable  grief.  Her 
repeated  visits,  from  day  to  day,  awakened  the  sym- 
pathy of  Darius,  who  thus  addressed  her,  in  the  per- 
son of  his  messenger:  “ Woman,  king  Darius  offers 
you  the  hberty  of  any  individual  of  your  family 
whom  you  may  most  desire  to  preserve.”  To  tins 
she  replied : “ K the  king  will  grant  me  the  fife  of 
any  one  of  my  family,  I choose  my  brother  in  pref- 
erence to  the  rest.”  The  king  was  so  astonished  at 
this  announcement  that  he  sent  a message  to  her  as 
follows : “ The  king  desires  to  know  why  you  have 
thought  proper  to  pass  over  your  children  and  your 
husband,  and  to  preserve  your  brother,  who  is  cer- 
tainly a more  remote  connection  than  your  children, 
and  cannot  be  so  dear  to  you  as  your  husband.” 
She  answered  thus  : “ O king ! if  it  please  the  Deity, 
I may  have  another  husband : and  if  I be  deprived  of 
these,  may  have  other  children ; but,  as  my  parents 
are  both  of  them  dead,  it  is  certain  that  I can  have 
no  other  brother.”  The  sentiment  commended  itself 
to  the  king,  as  it  does  to  every  adult  reader  embraced 
in  the  family  cficle. 

In  conclusion,  God  will  be  more  likely  to  honor 


THE  PRATERNAL  RELATION. 


129 


the  fraternal  relation  by  a spiritual  blessing,  when  its 
important  claims  are  observed  with  fidelity.  In  such 
a family,  Christ  will  find  his  trophies.  When  clothed 
in  flesh,  and  executing  his  merciful  errand  on  earth, 
our  Saviour  honored  an  humble  but  united  family 
of  Bethany  with  a visit ; and  probably,  in  all  the 
land,  there  was  not  another  family,  in  which  the  fra- 
ternal duties  were  more  faithfully  discharged  than 
in  that  same  family,  consisting  of  Martha  and  Mary, 
with  their  brother  Lazarus.  May  we  not  regard  the 
incident  in  the  light  of  a sacred  symbol,  pointing 
brothers  and  sisters  to  those  spiritual  visits,  which 
the  Saviour  now  vouchsafes  to  make  them,  when 
their  attachments  are  strong,  and  their  harmony  un- 
broken ? 


VI. 


THE  FA]MILY  SABBATH. 


“ Hail,  Sabbath!  thee  I hail,  the  poor  man’s  day: 

On  other  days  the  man  of  toil  is  doomed 
To  eat  his  joyless  bread,  lonely  — the  ground 
Both  seat  and  board  — screened  from  the  winter’s  cold 
And  summer’s  heat,  by  neighboring  hedge  or  tree ; 

But  on  this  day,  imbosomed  in  his  home. 

He  shares  the  frugal  meal  with  those  he  loves.” 

Gr-vuame. 


Marriage  was  the  first  fundamental  institution 
which  God  ordained  in  Paradise  — the  union  of  two 
hearts  and  destinies,  as  the  basis  of  the  family  rela- 
tion. The  second  was  the  Sabbath  of  rest  — one 
seventh  portion  of  time,  to  be  sacredly  redeemed 
from  worldly  cares  and  pursuits,  and  devoted  to  the 
worship  of  God.  The  fact  is  pregnant  with  mean- 
ing. That  God  should  ordain  the  Sabbath  immedi- 
ately after  the  institution  of  marriage,  implies  a con- 
nection between  the  two  which  may  suggest  its 
importance  to  the  weal  of  the  family.  Six  days  of 
special  toil  for  the  household  — the  seventh  a day 
of  rest  and  devotion  ! K he  who  created  all  things 
has  wisely  adapted  each  object  and  ordinance  to  the 
place  it  occupies,  then  we  must  hail  the  Sabbath  as 
the  harbinger  of  timely  good  to  the  family. 

(130) 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


131 


Some  of  the  delightful  appellations,  which  human 
genius  has  applied  to  this  day,  are  as  follows  — 
“ Help-meet  for  the  family  ” — “ Torch  of  Time  ” 

— “ Light  of  the  week  ” — “ The  poor  man’s  Friend  ” 

— “ Heaven’s  Antidote  ” — “ Pearl  of  days.”  These 
are  not  the  epithets  of  extravagant  rhetoric.  They 
are  fit  appellations.  The  Sabbath,  as  we  shall  see, 
is  “ a help-meet  ” in  aU  the  cares  and  duties  that 
pertain  to  domestic  life.  It  is  the  “ Light,”  kindled 
at  the  altar  of  truth,  which  irradiates  the  scenes  of 
the  week.  It  is  time’s  “ Torch,”  flashing  high  above 
a world  that  is  wrapped  in  moral  darkness.  It  is  the 
poor  man’s  “ Friend,”  beckoning  him  home  after  the 
toil  and  “ sweat  ” of  six  wearisome  days,  to  drown 
his  cares  in  the  communion  of  loving  hearts.  Of  all 
the  days  in  the  seven,  it  is  the  priceless  “ Pearl  ” — 

— the  fairest,  purest,  brightest,  that  hangs  upon  the 
neck  of  time.  It  comes  not  too  often,  nor  delays  too 
long.  It  demands  not  too  much  of  our  time,  nor 
takes  too  little.  For  it,  fifty-two  times  in  a year,  the 
morning  lifts  her  golden  gates,  and  it  comes  to  the 
waiting  family  with  “ refreshment  for  the  body,  and 
improvement  for  the  soul.”  Fifty-two  glowing  pre- 
faces to  as  many  chapters  in  a household’s  annual 
history  ! Fifty-two  oases,  gladdening  their  hearts 
annually  in  their  journey  through  this  wilderness  of 
sin  ! Fifty-two  precious  stones,  adorning  the  bosom 
of  a year,  aU  to  be  appropriated  to  the  family’s 
spiritual  wealth ! 

But  alas  ! these  Sabbaths  are  not  generally  appro- 
priated to  family  improvement.  Saturday  night 
does  riot  return  all  the  heads  of  earth’s  scattered 
households  who  might  quit  their  secular  pursuits. 


132 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


nor  even  fold  all  the  lambs  which  have  wandered 
from  the  flock.  True,  the  din  of  traffic  is  hushed  in 
the  streets,  and  the  sound  of  axe  is  not  generally 
heard  in  the  woods,  nor  hammer  at  the  forge ; 
but  it  is  not  wholly  that  a Sabbath  blessing  may  be 
shared  in  the  family  circle.  Human  depravity  takes 
advantage  of  the  liberty  of  the  day  to  riot  wantonly 
in  the  abodes  of  vice.  Pleasure  marshals  her  teem- 
ing hosts  for  outrage  upon  holy  ordinances,  and  for 
scenes  of  wild  excitement.  Profligacy  makes  it  a 
gala-day,  to  pander  to  debasing  passions,  and  wal- 
low in  the  mire  of  a lower  bestiality.  Hosts  of 
pining  wives  and  mothers  dread  the  coming  of  the 
sacred  day,  because  husbands  and  sons  rest  from 
their  labors  only  to  lounge  in  idleness,  or  revel  in 
bacchanalian  sports.  Stages  thunder  along  the  high- 
ways ; steamboats,  crowded  with  the  gay  “ lovers  of 
pleasure,”  plough  the  lakes  and  rivers ; and  trains 
of  rattling  cars  rush  across  the  land  ; aU  bearing  the 
members  of  numerous  families  upon  errands  of  busi- 
ness, or  atuusement,  far  away  from  the  peaceful 
home,  where  the  Divine  benediction  might  faU. 
And  thus,  wealthy  corporations  compel  hundreds 
of  fathers  and  sons,  either  to  violate  the  fourth  com- 
mandment, or  sacrifice  the  means  of  a livelihood,  if 
they  insist  upon  the  observance  of  God’s  Sabbath  in 
their  families.  Want  on  the  one  hand,  and  heartless 
tyranny  on  the  other,  suppresses  the  gushing  tender- 
ness of  many  noble  hearts  longing  to  tarry  one  day 
in  seven  at  home.  Then,  too,  what  slothfulness,  what 
indolence,  what  bargains,  what  book-posting,  what 
letter-writing,  what  ramblings,  what  plannings,  what 
visitings,  what  “ Sunday  sicknesses,”  all  adapted 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


133 


to  sacrifice  the  blessing  to  the  household,  and 
trample  upon  the  command,  “ Six  days  shalt  thou 
labor  and  do  all  Ihy  work : but  the  seventh  day  is 
the  Sabbath  of  the  Lord  thy  God  ; in  it  thou  shalt 
not  do  any  work,  thou,  nor  thy  son,  nor  thy  daugh- 
ter, thy  man-servant,  nor  thy  maid-servant,  nor  thy 
cattle,  nor  thy  stranger  that  is  within  thy  gates.” 
This  is  Jehovah’s  counsel  for  his  Sabbath  in  the 
family. 

This  day  ought  to  be  gi-eatly  magnified  in  impor- 
tance to  all  parents,  since  it  has  much  to  do  with  the 
felicity  of  their  households.  Even  if  there  were  no 
judgment-seat,  nor  fearful  retribution  to  meet  here- 
after, it  comes,  richly  laden  with  temporal  blessings, 
to  every  member,  from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest. 
If  the  family,  in  its  little  community  of  interests, 
were  to  pass  away  with  the  extinction  of  terrestrial 
objects,  the  Sabbath,  in  its  socializing  and  elevating 
tendency,  would  still  be  its  “ Pearl  of  Days.”  A few 
considerations  will  abundantly  establish  this  truth. 

The  Sabbath  tends  to  cultivate  domestic  affection. 
There  may  be  those  who  can  command  all  the  time 
they  wish  to  spend  with  their  families.  Freedom 
from  the  cares  of  business,  and  a competency  of 
worldly  goods,  exempt  them  from  the  necessity  of 
going  abroad  upon  errands  of  labor.  But  the  mass 
of  men  are  obliged  to  earn  a support  by  the  “ sweat 
of  the  brow.”  Six  days  in  a week,  from  the  rising 
to  the  setting  sun,  they  tire  with  toiling  for  the  main- 
tenance of  dependent  ones.  Thousands  are  away 
from  home,  from  Monday  morning  tiU  Saturday 
night,  prosecuting  their  purposes  in  an  honorable 
vocation.  Nothing  but  imperative  necessity  could 
12 


134 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


separate  them  so  long  from  the  fellowship  of  their 
kindred.  Amid  their  excessive  labors,  the  Sab- 
bath rises  before  them  as  a beacon  of  light,  cheer- 
ing their  hearts,  and  reviving  their  “ flagging  ener- 
gies,” by  the  rest  which  it  promises  under  its  shel- 
tering canopy.  The  prospect  nerves  the  drooping 
arm  of  labor,  and  reconciles  the  heart  to  what  might 
otherwise  become  a terrible  allotment. 

Others  return  from  their  daily  avocations,  — trades- 
men, husbandmen,  and  artisans  in  every  variety  of 
mechanical  pursuit,  — with  the  going  down  of  the 
sun,  but  rather  to  repose  their  limbs  than  to  nurture 
the  tender  plant  of  domestic  love.  "Worn  and 
weary,  their  lips  refuse  to  counsel,  and  the  happy 
converse  is  sacrificed  for  the  rest  which  wdll  gu'd  the 
loins  with  strength  for  the  duties  of  another  day.  A 
few  swift  hours  of  repose,  and  the  breaking  morning 
bids  them  away  again  to  their  wonted  pursuits. 

Some  may  be  privileged  to  receive  their  meals  at 
their  own  tables,  but  only  to  hasten  away  to  their 
farms  or  shops  or  merchandise,  as  soon  as  each  re- 
past is  hurriedly  partaken.  They  have  no  time  for 
affectionate  intercourse  with  the  beloved  group. 

The  circumstances,  also,  in  which  multitudes  are 
almost  compelled  to  labor,  are  unfavorable  to  the 
cultivation  of  a tender  and  affectionate  spirit.  In 
company,  often,  with  the  profane,  vicious,  and  profli- 
gate, they  necessarily  toil  in  a common  occupation. 
Their  eyes  become  familiar  'udth  sights,  their  ears 
are  saluted  with  sounds,  and  their  hearts  are  im- 
pressed with  influences,  which  are  withering  to  the 
tender  sensibilities  of  nature.  Bonds  of  friendship 
are  likely  to  be  formed  with  jovial  yoke-feUows,  unit- 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


135 


ing  their  hearts  by  strong  ties,  and  weakening  the 
more  sacred  bonds  of  home  and  kindred.  Thus,  there 
is  danger  of  quenching  the  flame  of  love,  and  of 
making  the  laborer  a more  negligent  husband,  father, 
or  son.  There  is  danger  of  weaning  him  from  the 
fireside  circle,  and  of  blasting  the  buds  of  hope,  to 
which  his  smile  is  sunshine,  and  his  sweat  the  timely 
dew.  There  is  danger  of  tipping  his  tongue  with 
venom,  and  tmuing  his  heart  to  stone. 

Thanks,  then,  for  the  Sabbath  of  rest,  that  may 
gather  together  the  absent  members  of  the  family,  to 
renew  their  friendships,  and  cultivate  then’  affections ! 
Without  its  weekly  visits,  how  brief  the  opportu- 
nities a multitude  would  have,  to  contribute  to  do- 
mestic felicity ! How  exceedingly  small  and  uncer- 
tain would  be  the  intervals  of  time,  to  be  snatched 
&om  secular  business,  for  the  gratification  of  the 
affections  in  domestic  communion ! It  is  ever  at  the 
altar  of  home  that  the  virtuous  cultivate  the  good- 
liest part  of  then'  being,  and  find  the  purest  springs 
of  earthly  happiness.  The  interchange  of  kindness, 
the  various  offices  of  love,  and  the  numerous  little 
acts  of  devotion  which  pertain  to  the  intercourse  of 
relatives,  all  are  suited  to  refine  the  feelings  and 
ennoble  the  man.  Thanks,  we  repeat,  for  the  weekly 
Sabbath,  which  God  has  made  for  the  members  of 
every  family  to  enjoy,  and  improve  in  devotion  to 
each  other,  as  well  as  to  himself!  On  this  day  alone 
can  thousands  satisfy  the  longings  of  loving  hearts ! 
It  keeps  in  tune  the  heartstrings  to  make  music  for 
the  domestic  circle ! 

The  Sabbath  presents  a favorable  opportunity  to 
parents  for  the  moral  instruction  of  thek  children. 


136 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


What  has  been  already  said  respecting  the  secular 
labors  of  many  parents  through  the  week,  is  suffi- 
cient to  show  that  they  have  httle  time  to  impart 
needful  moral  lessons  to  their  offspring.  Many  re- 
tm-n  from  their  daily  pursuits,  after  the  younger 
members  of  the  household  have  retired,  too  weary  to 
counsel  or  instruct  the  older  children,  who  are  not  at 
rest.  Without  the  intervention  of  this  sacred  day, 
there  would  necessarily  be  a lack  of  warnmg  and 
faithful  counsel,  to  prepare  for  the  perils  that  beset 
life’s  devious  way.  Young  hearts  would  become 
developed,  without  a love  of  those  Christian  prin- 
ciples which  alone  can  survive  the  assaults  of  tliis 
wicked  world. 

No  season  is  so  favorable  to  make  deep  and  last- 
ing impressions  upon  the  mind  as  this  “ holy  time.” 
The  day  is  associated  with  acts  of  practical  piety 
and  the  worship  of  God.  A different  class  of  feel- 
ings pervade  almost  every  heart,  when  the  rismg 
sun  announces  the  Sabbath  morning.  The  glories 
of  the  Creator  are  beheld  in  the  beams  of  every 
opening  day ; but  the  religious  associations  of  this 
cause  it  to  be  especially  impressive.  There  is  power 
in  the  silence  that  reigns  over  the  village,  whose  din 
of  traffic  was  hushed  with  the  shades  of  Saturday 
night.  After  excepting  the  numerous  mstances  of 
disregard  for  this  holy  day,  in  riding,  sporting,  and 
toiling,  it  yet  presents  a striking  contrast  with  secular 
days,  in  the  stilhiess  which  reigns  far  and  ^^-ide. 
This  impresses  the  young  mind.  It  adds  force  to 
Christian  counsel.  It  tends  to  open  the  heart  for  the 
reception  of  truth.  The  parent  may  avail  himself  of 
this  first  day  of  the  week,  and  of  these  sacred  associ- 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


137 


ations,  to  guide  his  children  into  paths  of  peace. 
Example  may  teach  on  every  day,  but  on  this  day, 
precept  and  principle  may  especially  be  imparted. 
Moral  perils  may  be  pointed  out ; temptations,  nu- 
merous and  powerful,  may  be  specified ; the  deceit- 
fulness and  depravity  of  the  heart  may  be  exposed ; 
and  the  mind  may  be  imbued  essentially  with  the 
spirit  of  the  gospel. 

The  Sabbath  School,  with  its  excellent  facilities 
for  religious  education,  invites  the  young  to  share 
its  advantages.  Here,  the  heart  may  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  great  truths  of  Revelation,  and  the 
young  be  led  into  the  path  of  life.  A powerful  aux- 
iliary to  parental  instruction  may  thus  be  secured  in 
this  valuable  institution.  We  cannot  estimate  its 
blessings  in  regard  to  the  young.  We  cannot  teU 
how  much  it  contributes  to  fit  them  for  usefulness 
and  for  God.  We  know  not  how  far  it  equips  them 
for  conflict  with  the  false  hearts  and  principles  of 
the  world.  But  we  may  justly  believe  that  it  acts 
an  important  part  in  fitting  them  for  the  duties  of 
the  family  and  State.  It  not  only  teaches  the  young 
in  all  that  pertains  to  moral  and  religious  character ; 
but  it  nullifies  many  of  the  lessons  which  have  been 
di’opped  into  the  heart  by  wicked  counsellors.  The 
teachers  of  iniquity  are  more  numerous  than  the 
teachers  of  truth.  And  the  agency  of  which  we 
speak  is  powerful  to  oppose  their  contaminating  and 
destructive  influence. 

When  the  missionary  goes  to  spread  the  gospel 
through  the  Western  VaUey,  he  begins  the  stupen- 
dous work  by  gathering  the  children  together  upon 
the  Sabbath  to  study  the  Scriptures.  The  invitation 

12* 


138 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


echoes  through  the  extensive  forests,  and,  for  miles 
around,  the  children  respond  by  issuing  in  goodly 
numbers  from  the  scattered  cabins.  The  truth  is 
lodged  in  their  heads,  hearts,  and  hands,  to  be  borne 
home  from  week  to  week  to  their  godless  parents. 
Ai'ound  this  little  school,  as  a nucleus,  is  gathered 
at  length  a church  of  Christ,  and  every  Sabbath 
morning,  the  ringing  beU  calls  a cluster  of  Christian 
families  to  the  place  of  prayer.  Enterprise  and  thrift 
convert  the  wilderness  into  a beautiful  village,  wdth 
its  church  spire  pointing  heavenward,  and  its  happy 
households  the  worshippers  of  Israel’s  God.  The 
sohtary  place  is  made  glad,  and  “ the  desert  blos- 
soms as  the  rose.”  It  is  an  illustration  of  the  value 
of  the  Sabbath  for  the  moral  improvement  of  chil- 
dren in  the  Sabbath  school.  It  is  of  no  less  value  in 
the  family.  The  quantity  of  time  thus  afforded  for 
parental  instruction  is  seldom  appreciated.  Sons 
and  daughters,  from  the  moment  they  are  old  enough 
to  receive  moral  lessons,  are  usually  vmder  the  watch 
of  parents  sixteen  years.  This  period  embraces  eight 
hundred  and  thirty-two  Sabbaths,  or  more  than  ttvo 
and  one  fourth  years  of  holy  time.  So  that,  if  par- 
ents have  not  time  to  devote  to  the  religious  culture 
of  their  offspring,  except  the  Sabbath,  they  will  be  for- 
ever without  excuse,  if  they  do  not  make  their  hearts 
rich  in  lessons  of  imparted  truth.  God  might  have 
divided  human  life,  so  that  tw^o  and  a quarter  years 
of  unbroken  time  should  be  sacredly  devoted  to  re- 
ligious purposes,  and  the  remainder  to  the  world. 
But  his  present  aiTangement  of  one  day  in  seven  is 
far  preferable  for  the  moral  education  of  the  young. 
A long  period  of  uninterrupted  mingling  in  worldly 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


139 


scenes  would  be  likely  to  establish  the  habits  in  sin. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  intervention  of  ihe  Sabbath, 
with  every  seventh  day  tends  to  break  up  unholy 
alliances,  by  bringing  the  mind  afresh  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  claims  of  God.  This  wise  arrange- 
ment does  not  leave  the  spirit  to  worldly  influen- 
ces long  enough  to  be  bound  with  triple  cords,  be- 
fore it  is  aroused  again  to  think  of  righteousness 
and  a judgment  to  come.  Parents  have  reason  to 
rejoice  in  such  a provision  for  the  welfare  of  then- 
children. 

The  Sabbath  renders  the  family  relation  more  en- 
during. He  who  continues  to  toil  in  his  accustomed 
occupation  with  no  day  of  respite,  will  shorten  his 
life,  and  go  down  more  speedily  to  the  grave.  The 
Sabbath  was  ordained  for  a twofold  object  — “rest 
for  the  body  and  improvement  for  the  soul.”  The 
first  object  has  reference  to  the  wants  of  the 
physical  nature.  The  Sabbath  is  a law  unto  this 
part  of  our  being.  It  has  its  unavoidable  penalty. 
The  fire  will  not  more  surely  burn  the  hand  which 
is  thrust  into  it,  than  this  law  of  the  Sabbath,  habit- 
ually violated  by  labor,  will  inflict  suffering  upon  the 
physical  nature.  The  Sabbath  “ is  to  the  week, 
what  night  is  to  the  day  ” — rest  for  the  worn 
and  weary  limbs.  The  following  facts  and  views 
show  that  the  laborer,  who  follows  his  pursuit 
without  a day  of  rest,  will  be  soonest  overtaken 
by  death. 

Dr.  Backus,  of  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  and  seven  other 
physicans,  say,  “ having,  most  of  us,  lived  on  the 
Erie  Canal  since  its  completion,  we  have  uniformly 
witnessed  the  same  deteriorating  effects  of  seven 


140 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


days’  working  upon  the  physical  constitution,  both 
of  man  and  beast,  as  have  been  so  ably  depicted  by 
Dr.  Farre.” 

In  1839,  a Committee  were  appointed  by  the 
Legislature  of  Pennsylvania  to  make  investigations 
concerning  the  employment  of  laborers  on  their 
canals  upon  the  Sabbath.  In  their  report,  the 
Committee  say  of  those  who  had  petitioned  against 
laboring  on  the  Sabbath,  “ they  assert,  as  the  result 
of  their  experienee,  that  both  man  and  beast  can  do 
more  work  by  resting  one  day  in  seven  than  by 
working  on  the  whole  seven.”  They  add,  “ Your 
Committee  feel  free  to  confess,  that  their  own  experi- 
ence as  business  men,  farmers,  or  legislators,  con’e- 
sponds  with  the  assertion.” 

Dr.  Sewell  says,  “ While  I consider  it  the  more 
important  design  of  the  institution  of  the  Sabbath 
to  assist  in  religious  devotion  and  advance  men’s 
spiritual  welfare,  I have  long  held  the  opinion,  that 
one  of  its  chief  benefits  has  reference  to  the  physical 
and  intellectual  constitution ; affording  him,  as  it 
does,  one  day  in  seven  for  the  renovation  of  his  ex- 
hausted energies  of  body  and  mmd  ; a proportion  of 
time  small  enough,  according  to  the  results  of  my 
observation,  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  object. 
. . . . I have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  it  as  my 
opinion,  that  if  the  Sabbath  were  universally  ob- 
served as  a day  of  devotion  and  of  rest  from  secular 
occupations,  far  more  work  of  body  and  mind  would 
be  accomphshed,  and  be  better  done ; more  health 
would  be  enjoyed,  with  more  of  wealth  and  inde- 
pendence, and  we  should  have  far  less  of  crime  and 
poverty  and  suffering.” 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


141 


Dr.  Farre,  of  London,  writes  : “ I have  been  in  the 
habit,  during  a great  many  years,  of  considering  the 
uses  of  the  Sabbath,  and  of  observing  its  abuses. 
. . . As  a day  of  rest,  I view  it  as  a day  of  compen- 
sation for  the  inadequate  restorative  power  of  the 
body,  under  continued  labor  and  excitement.  ...  I 
have  found  it  essential  to  my  own  well-being,  as  a 
physician,  to  abridge  my  labor  on  the  Sabbath  to 
what  is  actually  necessary.  I have  frequently  ob- 
served the  premature  death  of  medical  men  from 
continued  exertion.  In  warm  climates,  and  in  active 
service,  this  is  painfully  apparent.  I have  advised 
the  clergyman,  also,  in  lieu  of  the  Sabbath,  to  rest 
one  day  in  the  week  ; it  forms  a continual  prescrip- 
tion of  mine.  I have  seen  many  destroyed  by  their 
duties  on  that  day ; and  to  preserve  others,  I have 
frequently  suspended  them,  for  a season,  from  the 
discharge  of  those  duties.”  * 

Now,  apply  this  to  the  proposition  under  consider- 
ation, that  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  as  a day 
of  rest,  wlU  render  the  family  relation  more  enduring. 
A poor  but  worthy  man  is  straitened  to  support  his 
numerous  family.  Each  member  of  it  is  as  dear  to 
him  as  life  itself.  He  would  labor  nights  to  keep 
them  out  of  the  almshouse,  and  supply  by  his  own 
efforts  their  daily  wants.  Pressed  by  the  calls  of  his 
hungering  children,  and  the  intensity  of  his  love,  he 
devotes  the  Sabbath  to  worldly  business.  Like  aU 
other  days,  it  becomes  a day  of  labor,  to  save  his 
family  from  the  “ pauper’s  home.”  K he  persists  in 
this  incessant  work,  he  will  hasten  a greater  evil 

* For  other  facts  and  views  of  eminent  Physicians,  see  the 
Sabbath  Manual. 


142 


LITE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


upon  himself,  — a final  separation  from  his  family 
by  death,  — and  they  will  be  left  to  the  only  alterna- 
tive of  the  pauper’s  doom.  Earlier  in  life  the  family 
relation  will  be  broken,  and  its  members  driven  from 
their  endeared  home.  On  the  other  hand,  the  rest 
of  the  Sabbath  would  give  him  a longer  period  to 
dwell  in  the  bosom  of  Ms  family,  and  reap  the  price- 
less blessings  that  always  abound  even  in  a poor 
but  united  household.  The  language  of  that  heroic 
woman  who  said  to  her  husband,  when  tempted  to 
labor  on  the  Sabbath  for  the  maintenance  of  his  cliil- 
dren,  deserves  to  be  engraved  on  marble  : “ If  a man 
cannot  support  his  family  by  keeping  the  Sabbath, 
he  certainly  cannot  support  them  by  breaking  it.” 

The  influence  of  the  Sabbath  in  forming  youth- 
ful character.  K it  is  not  improved  to  cultivate 
the  moral  virtues,  like  all  other  misimproved  bless- 
ings it  becomes  a curse.  To  slight  or  trample  upon 
any  important  privilege,  inflicts  an  injury  upon  the 
moral  nature,  which  the  character,  sooner  or  later, 
will  exhibit.  He  who  deliberately  sets  at  naught  a 
law  of  God,  fosters  a spirit  which  promises  little 
else  than  open  immorality.  This  is  as  true  of  the 
law  of  the  Sabbath  as  of  any  other  law.  For  God 
has  not  ordained  one,  which  is  not  necessary  to  a 
complete  and  harmonious  development  of  character. 

We  have  only  to  present,  in  contrast,  a family  in 
which  the  Sabbath  is  regarded,  and  one  in  which  it 
is  not  reverenced,  in  order  to  learn  its  jrower  in 
moulding  youthful  character.  In  the  former,  labor 
and  pleasme  are  laid  aside ; religious  reading  and 
teaching  are  practised ; the  Scriptures  are  studiously 
consulted ; the  sanctuary  is  visited ; the  children  re- 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


143 


pair  to  the  Sabbath  school;  and  quiet,  order,  de- 
corum, and  moral  loveliness  distinguish  the  day.  Li 
the  latter,  labor  is  suspended  for  idleness  and  pleas- 
ure ; novels  and  secular  papers  are  consulted  instead 
of  the  Bible ; the  house  of  worship  is  unvisited ; 
company  is  entertained;  rides  and  visits  are  enjoyed, 
and  children  ramble  in  the  fields.  Li  which  family 
we  discover  most  that  is  attractive  and  promising,  I 
need  not  say.  In  which  there  is  most  virtue  and 
strength  of  moral  character  we  readily  conclude,  and 
time  speedily  proves.  A few  years  hence,  when  the 
sons  quit  the  antique  mansion  and  go  forth  to  some 
calling  of  life,  the  strength  of  religious  principle  in 
one  case,  and  the  want  of  it  in  the  other,  wiU  show 
where  the  tempter  finds  the  easiest  prey.  The  fol- 
lowing facts  deserve  to  be  pondered. 

Judge  Hall  remarks,  that  “ Of  aU  the  persons  who 
were  convicted  of  capital  crimes  while  he  was  upon 
the  bench,  he  found  a few  only  who  would  not  con- 
fess, on  inquiry,  that  they  began  their  course  of 
wickedness  by  a neglect  of  the  duties  of  the  Sabbath, 
and  vicious  conduct  on  that  day.” 

Of  twelve  hundred  convicts,  committed  to  Auburn 
State  Prison,  antecedent  to  the  year  1838,  about  four 
hundred  and  fifty  were  sailors  and  watermen,  who 
had  been  wont  to  labor  on  the  Sabbath.  Only 
twenty-six  of  the  whole  twelve  hundred  had  consci- 
entiously observed  the  Sabbath. 

“ Of  one  hundred  men,  admitted  to  the  Massa- 
chusetts State  Prison  in  one  year,  eighty-nine  had 
lived  in  habitual  violation  of  the  Sabbath,  and  neg- 
lect of  public  worship.” 

The  warden  of  a large  prison  says,  “ nine  tenths 


144 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


of  our  inmates  are  those  who  did  not  value  the 
Sabbath,  and  were  not  in  the  habit  of  attending 
public  worship.” 

Dr.  Rudge,  once  the  chaplain  to  Newgate,  re- 
marked in  an  evening  lecture,  that  “ his  official  situ- 
ation often  led  him  to  hear  the  confessions  of  male- 
factors under  sentence  of  death  ; and  that  in  almost 
every  instance,  they  ascribed  their  ruin  to  the  deser- 
tion of  the  house  of  God,  and  the  violation  of  the 
day  of  rest.”  * 

When  we  ponder  such  startling  facts  as  the  above, 
we  can  appreciate  the  remark  of  that  distinguished 
merchant,  who  said,  “ When  I see  one  of  my  appren- 
tices or  clerks  riding  out  on  the  Sabbath,  on  Monday 
I dismiss  him.  Such  a one  cannot  be  trusted.” 

The  convictions  of  nearly  every  parent,  in  moments 
of  calm  reflection,  lean  to  the  side  of  the  truth  which 
we  utter.  The  young  man  leaves  the  home  of  his 
affections,  where  he  has  been  taught  to  “ remember 
the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy.”  He  has  never 
been  accustomed  to  devote  its  sacred  hours  to  work 
or  pleasure.  He  has  grown  up  to  respect  this  con- 
secrated time,  and  all  his  views  and  feelings  sustain 
the  faithful  keeping  of  it.  AVith  these  sentiments 
and  principles,  he  bids  adieu  to  home  and  friends, 
and  goes  forth  to  the  stirring  conflict  of  hfe.  AAflili 
deceitful  enchanters  in  his  pathway,  and  wily  tempt- 
ers at  his  side,  and  the  song  of  sirens  falling  on  his 
ear,  he  is  to  stand  or  fall,  live  or  die,  by  the  strength 
of  his  own  integrity.  AAffiere  is  the  parent  who 
would  not  feel  that  the  son  who  loves  the  Sabbath 
is  safer  amid  these  moral  dangers,  than  the  son  who 


* See  Sabbath  Manual. 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


145 


does  not  regard  it?  Who  does  not  feel  that  this 
alone  is  a sort  of  pledge  for  his  success  in  battling 
with  temptations  ? that  this  armors  him  with  “ shield 
and  buckler  ” against  the  wiliest  foes  which  plot  his 
ruin?  Value,  then,  the  Sabbath  in  the  family. 

The  Sabbath  promotes  household  piety.  On  the 
other  days  the  occupations  of  many  leave  little  op- 
portunity for  the  cultivation  of  family  religion. 
There  are  multitudes  employed  in  mills  and  manu- 
factories of  various  descriptions,  to  whom  is  not 
allotted  time  enough  for  their  regular  meals,  (if  they 
have  regard  to  physiological  directions,)  and  much 
more  for  religious  duties.  The  wants  of  the  soul 
must  chiefly  be  cared  for,  when  the  body  tkes  with 
exhaustion  at  the  close  of  the  fatiguing  day.  For 
them,  in  the  language  of  Sherman,  “ God  has 
anointed  this  day  with  the  oil  of  gladness  above  all 
its  fellows.  - What  the  sun  is  among  the  planets,  — 
what  the  market-day  is  -to  the  tradesman,  — what 
a fair  wind  is  to  the  sailor,  — what  the  tide  is  to  the 
waterman,  — that  the  Sabbath  day  is  to  the  soul.” 

Facts  show,  that  where  there  is  no  Sabbath  there 
is  no  religion.  There  the  Bible  has  no  friends  and 
lovers,  the  sanctuary  is  not,  and  family  altars  are 
unknown.  Superstition  enchains  the  mind,  gross 
darkness  covers  the  people,  and  purity  appears  not 
in  the  streets.  Sabbathless  lands  are  the  “ habita- 
tions of  cruelty,”  and  the  “ cages  of  unclean  birds.” 
The  same  is  true  of  Sabbathless  families.  Even 
Christian  households,  deprived  from  this  hour  of 
this  day  of  days,  would  greatly  decline  in  religious 
fervor,  and  possibly  their  altars  of  prayer  would 
become  extinct.  For  there  are  thousands  of  pro- 

13 


146 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


fessed  Christians,  who  make  the  incessant  labors  of 
each  day  an  excuse  for  neglecting  the  weekly  meet- 
ing for  prayer,  and  many  of  those  private  duties 
which  promote  personal  piety.  If  no  Sabbath  in- 
terrupted them  in  their  laborious  pursuits,  their  re- 
ligion would  consist,  at  best,  of  profession  and  form. 
But  this  day,  in  its  weekly  visits,  removes  aU  excuses, 
and  makes  plain  the  duty  of  cultivating  religion  in 
the  sanctuary  and  at  home.  Even  sweet  peace, 
which  the  angel  of  mercy  bears  to  the  faithful  wor- 
shipper in  the  house  of  the  Lord,  is  carried  away,  to 
be  made  a cheerful  contribution  to  household  piety. 

On  the  secular  days  of  the  week,  the  family  ap- 
pears especially  in  its  earthly  relations ; on  the  Sab- 
bath, its  immortal  interests  demand  attention.  The 
father  is  no  longer  known  as  a farmer,  merchant,  or 
mechanic ; the  mother  leaves  off,  in  a measure,  her 
office  of  housekeeper ; and  the  childi’en  are  milmown 
as  school-boys  and  ghls.  All  appear,  on  this  holy 
day,  especially  as  immortal  beings,  exhorted  to  ponder 
their  accountabffity  to  God,  and  prepare  for  meeting 
the  solemn  verities  of  eternity.  Six  days  have  been 
devoted  to  the  pressing  wants  of  the  body,  the 
seventh  is  the  “ Sabbath  of  the  Lord,”  to  be  spent  in 
attention  to  the  soul.  The  physical  and  intellectual 
natures  have  been  carefully  nurtured  through  the 
week;  now  the  spiritual,  whose  infinite  capacities 
reveal  the  sublime  dignity  of  man  as  an  heir  of  im- 
mortality, deserves  to  be  made  the  subject  of  reflec- 
tion and  prayer.  What  a season  for  burnishing  the 
Christian  armor!  What  a day  to  run  for  the  prize! 
What  moments  for  guiding  children  to  Christ ! 
What  an  opportunity  to  make  all  the  family  one  in 


THE  FAJULY  SABBATH. 


147 


the  Lord  on  earth,  that  they  may  be  one  in  the 
skies ! 

They  who  would  abolish  the  Sabbath,  would 
bring  unparalleled  disaster  upon  families.  The  blot- 
ting out  of  this  day  would  reduce  them  to  the  most 
alienated  and  godless  condition.  Domestic  love 
would  expire,  in  countless  instances,  for  the  want 
of  a day  in  which  to  fan  its  dying  embers.  Children 
would  grow  up  untaught  in  religious  truth,  and  the 
seeds  of  vice  would  take  deep  root  in  their  hearts 
and  thrive  in  rank  luxuriance.  To  the  lower  classes, 
compelled  to  toil  industriously  for  a livelihood,  home 
would  be  divested  of  those  attractions  which  the 
Sabbath’s  weekly  visits  throw  around  it.  The  bonds 
of  sympathy,  which  the  domestic  fellowship  of  every 
seventh  day  creates,  would  be  ruptured.  The  blest 
affinities  of  nature  would  dissolve,  and  dismembered 
and  scattered  households  be  multiplied  on  every 
hand.  What  is  worse,  domestic  piety,  amid  the 
spreading  desolation,  would  find  no  place  for  the 
sole  of  its  foot ; and  because  religion  Mmuld  lose  its 
altar  in  the  family,  it  would  have  no  enshrinement 
in  the  church,  and  no  trophies  in  the  world. 

The  enemies  of  Christianity,  in  all  ages,  have  well 
understood  that  the  Sabbath  is  its  strong  fortress, 
and  they  have  accordingly  sought  to  destroy  this. 
The  battering-rams  of  infidelity  have  pelted  at  its 
gates,  while  skepticism  has  waited  impatient  to  spit 
its  venom  upon  the  soldiers  of  the  cross  who  lay 
under  its  walls.  If  they  could  abolish  this  sacred 
institution,  close  the  temples  of  Cod,  and  for  the 
chiming  of  beUs  supply  the  music  of  fife  and  drum. 


148 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


and  the  “tramp  of  traffic,”  their  object  ■would  be 
easily  accomphshed. 

Were  the  Sabbath  merely  a human  institution, 
bearing  not  the  seal  of  heaven,  nor  pointing  to  the 
gates  of  glory,  even  then  we  could  not  afford  to 
abolish  it.  The  family  would  still  demand  it  as 
the  harbinger  of  its  brightest  hopes,  and  the  arbiter 
of  its  destiny.  It  would  require  it  to  cement  a 
union  of  hearts,  and  perpetuate  the  harmonies  of  a 
blissful  relation. 

Parental  example  upon  this  subject  needs  to  be 
guarded.  The  heads  of  famihes  will  not  see  the 
other  members  more  regardful  of  the  Sabbath  than 
themselves.  If  they  indulge  in  hght  and  triffing  con- 
versation, if  they  peruse  the  secular  news-sheet,  or 
the  novel,  if  they  neglect  the  place  of  worship,  if 
they  ramble  in  the  fields,  or  do,  or  say  any  thing  in- 
consistent with  the  sacredness  of  the  day,  their  sons 
and  daughters  will  easdy  excuse  themselves  in  doing 
the  same.  If  parents  desire  their  children  to  be  blest 
by  the  recurrence  of  this  day,  they  must  accommo- 
date their  words,  counsels,  acts,  yea,  their  entire  ex- 
ample, to  the  spirit  of  the  commandment,  “ Remem- 
ber the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy.” 

We  close  this  subject  with  the  following  beautiful 
description  of  a really  sanctified  Sabbath  throughout 
the  world,  by  John  Allan  Quinton.  If  aU  famffies 
duly  observed  the  day,  the  glorious  scene  which  he 
portrays  would  be  witnessed. 

“ The  flocks  are  wandering  and  gambolling  in  the 
dells ; the  cattle  are  grazing  on  the  hiU-sides ; and 
the  beasts  of  burden,  freed  from  their  yoke,  are  feed- 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


149 


ing  on  the  open  plains.  The  plough  stands  where 
it  halted  in  its  course  across  the  furrows ; but  the 
husbandman  has  gone  home  to  cultivate  his  soul. 
The  sound  of  the  axe  has  ceased  from  the  forest,  and 
the  prostrate  trees  lie  as  they  fell ; but  the  woodman 
has  gone  away  to  ponder  on  the  sudden  death-stroke 
that  may  lay  him  low,  or  is  on  his  way  to  the  place 
where  the  keen  axe  of  truth  wUl  be  levelled  at  the 
roots  of  his  stubborn  sins.  The  mills  are  at  rest  on 
every  hiU-top,  but  their  inmates  have  retired  to  their 
habitations,  to  garner  up  the  corn  of  heaven.”  .... 

“ Turn  next  towards  the  great  city,  rearing  its 
roofs,  chimneys,  steeples,  monuments,  and  huge 
masses  of  masonry  in  an  atmosphere  less  murky 
and  impure  than  that  which  broods  over  it  on  the 
other  days  of  the  week.  The  swarms  of  industry 
are  now  hived.  The  mingled  hum  of  busy  multi- 
tudes, the  heavy  tramp  of  traffic,  the  rush  of  enter- 
prise, the  clamor  of  human  passions,  the  noise  of 
innumerable  tools  and  implements  of  handicraft,  the 
fierce  panting  of  engines,  the  ringing  of  anvils,  and 
the  furious  racings  of  machinery ; the  shouts  of 
crowds,  the  brawls  of  drunkenness,  and  the  plaints  of 
mendicant  misery  are  all  sunk  into  silence,  and  dis- 
turb not  with  a ripple  the  stiU  Sabbath  air 

The  tall  ships  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  have  furled 
their  sails,  closed  down  their  hatches,  and  hid  from 
aU  eyes  the  merchandise  treasured  in  their  holds, 
whilst  the  Bethel-flag  waves  amid  a forest  of  masts, 
and  they  that  go  down  to  the  sea  and  do  business 
on  great  waters  are  below  studying  the  chart  of  rev- 
elation, tracing  the  danger  of  their  life’s  voyage, 
and  anticipating  the  glad  hour  when,  redeemed  from 
13* 


150 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


every  peril,  and  borne  on  the  bosom  of  a favoring 
tide,  they  shall  safely  moor  their  bark  in  the  haven 

of  eternal  life The  merchant  has  quitted  the 

desk  of  his  dusky  counting-house,  and  is  now  in 
secret  places,  turning  over  the  blotted  leaves  of  his 
own  heart.”  .... 

“ The  gates  of  the  temple  of  Mammon  are  shut, 
and  the  gods  of  gold  and  silver  are  forsaken  by  their 
weekday  devotees.  The  chiming  beUs,  sounding 
ahke  across  country  and  town,  are  caUing  upon  aU 
men  to  cut  the  cords  of  their  earthbound  thoughts 
and  low  cares,  and  go  up  to  worship  at  the  foot- 
stool of  Jehovah  ; and  the  tapering  spires,  hke 
holy  fingers,  are  pointmg  significantly  toward  the 
sky.” 

“ And  now  the  minister  is  descending  from  Ins 
study,  his  countenance  impressed  with  a solemn 
sense  of  his  responsibility ; the  saint  is  coming 
forth  refreshed  from  his  closet;  the  pardoned  peni- 
tent is  rising  from  his  knees  ; the  evangelist  is  on 
his  way  to  his  mission  work ; the  Sabbath  school 
teacher  is  pleading  with  his  class,  and  the  Christian 
matron  is  leading  forth  her  children  to  the  mountain 
of  the  Lord’s  house.” 

“ At  length  a new  traffic  fills  the  streets ; a grow- 
ing bustle  stirs  the  air  ; a new  scene  expands  before 
the  eye,  religious  assemblies  are  gathering  the 
major  part  of  the  population.  They  come  from 
the  spacious  squares  and  the  crowded  lanes ; they 
are  seen  issuing  ahke  from  the  lordly  palace  and 
the  plebeian  hut.”  .... 

“ Organs  are  pealing  through  the  lofty  roofs  of 
cathedrals,  and  along  the  aisles  of  chm-ches ; an- 


THE  FAMILY  SABBATH. 


151 


thems  are  swelling  from  scores  of  unseen  chapels ; 
the  glad  outbm-sts  of  thanksgiving  and  the  hallelu- 
jahs of  the  happy  are  mingling  in  the  air,  and  filling 
the  clear  vault  of  heaven  with  rich  harmony.  Then 
the  holy  breath  of  prayer  goes  up  lilte  fragrant  incense 
ascending  to  the  sky  ; after  which  the  manna  of  the 
word  is  scattered  round  in  the  camp,  and  the  doc- 
trines of  grace  are  distilled  lilre  reviving  dew  upon 
the  parched  hearts  of  men.  Prayer  and  praise  again 
succeed,  and  then  — convinced  by  some  eloquent 
Apollos,  or  conscience-stricken  by  some  vehement 
Paul,  or  comforted  by  some  consohng  Barnabas,  or 
melted  by  some  fervent  John  — the  assemblies  break 
up  and  return,  fervently  ejaculating  their  gratitude 
for  the  priceless  privileges  of  Sabbath  rest.” 


VII. 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


“ Star  of  eternity ! only  star 
By  which  the  bark  of  man  could  navigate 
The  sea  of  life,  and  gain  the  coast  of  bliss 
Securely ! ” Pollok. 

“ The  cheerfu’  supper  done,  wi’  serious  face. 

They  round  the  ingle  form  a cii'cle  wide; 

The  sire  turns  o’er  wi’  patriarchal  grace 
The  big  ha’  Bible,  ance  his  father’s  pride.” 

Burxs. 


The  Sabbath  and  the  Bible  can  live  only  in  union. 
They  are  mutually  dependent.  The  Sabbath  is  the 
“ right  arm  ” of  the  Bible ; and  the  Bible  is  the 
“ right  arm  ” of  the  Sabbath.  Destroy  one,  and  you 
destroy  both.  They  live  in  each  other,  or  they  die 
in  each  other.  The  glory  of  the  one  is  the  glory  of 
the  other.  The  blessings  of  one  are  proportioned  to 
the  blessings  of  the  other.  The  neglect  of  one  is 
usually  succeeded  by  neglect  of  the  other. 

A family  with  a Sabbath  is  not  thoroughly  fur- 
nished wdthout  a Bible,  and  vice  versa.  If  it  has  the 
former,  it  needs  the  latter  to  hallow  and  sanctify  it. 
If  it  has  the  latter,  it  needs  the  former  to  cherish  and 
prove  it  a blessing.  A family  without  a Bible  is  a 
family  without  a Sabbath,  and  a family  without  a 

(1.52) 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


153 


Sabbath,  although  they  may  possess  a copy  of  the 
Scriptures,  is,  in  regard  to  all  practical  results,  a 
family  without  a Bible.  The  gaUant  vessel,  fully 
rigged  for  the  seas  and  spreading  its  canvas  to  fair 
weather  and  a favoring  tide,  wiU,  nevertheless,  go  to 
pieces  on  the  rocks  or  quicksands,  unless  provided 
with  a chart  and  compass.  So,  without  a Bible, 
the  family  will  make  shipwreck  of  its  purity  and 
brightest  hopes  before  it  reaches  the  high  destiny, 
for  which  the  interesting  relation  was  created. 

The  Bible  in  the  family,  then,  is  indispensable  to 
its  prosperity,  and  the  blessing  of  God  upon  its 
members.  Wherever  it  is  properly  appreciated,  and 
placed  side  by  side  with  the  Sabbath  in  the  house- 
hold, there  the  loveliest  virtues  thrive.  As  long  as 
the  ark  of  the  Lord  was  deposited  in  the  house  of 
Obed-edom,  the  blessing  of  God  rested  upon  it,  so  as 
to  impress  the  minds  of  all  beholders.  David,  elated 
by  a view  of  the  benediction  which  fell  upon  that 
household,  carried  up  the  same  glorious  ark  to  his 
own  loved  city,  that  God  might  regard  it  with  favor, 
and  make  it  a city  to  his  greater  praise.  So  every 
head  of  a family,  beholding  the  moral  beauty  that 
unfolds  at  household  altars  beneath  the  light  of 
the  Gospel,  may  ’wisely  bear  away  this  Bible  treas- 
ure to  his  own  home,  sm'e  that  God  will  bestow  his 
benison  where  the  ark  of  his  truth  abides. 

The  family,  in  its  complete  domestic  constitution, 
has  its  origin  in  the  Bible.  This  volume  presents  it 
in  its  primeval  state,  and  surrounds  it  with  all  those 
guards  and  monitions  which  are  necessary  to  pro- 
mote its  purity  and  perpetuate  its  existence.  It 
walls  around  this  sacred  institution  with  the  most 


154 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


positive  commands,  and  threatens  the  extinction  of 
natural  affection  with  direful  penalties.  It  would 
have  mankind  value  their  homes  above  all  other 
earthly  possessions,  second  only  to  a better  home  in 
the  skies ; — the  delightful  sanctuaries  where  nothing 
that  defiles  shall  enter  — the  beautiful  grounds  of 
social  fellowship,  where  the  buds  and  blossoms  of 
affection  and  hope  promise  fruit  for  church  and  State. 
To  this  end,  the  Scriptures  exalt  woman  to  a proper 
dignity  and  honor  in  the  domestic  circle.  They 
allot  to  the  wife  and  mother  a sphere  of  effort  W'hich 
no  one  else  can  occupy.  They  impose  a weight  of 
responsibility  w^hich  at  once  supposes  a high  honor 
and  importance  to  the  place  she  liUs. 

How  different,  w^here  the  Bible  is  unknown ! A 
land  without  the  Bible  would  be  a land  destitute  of 
homes.  There  would  be  none  of  those  little  gather- 
ings of  trusting  hearts,  scattered  along  the  hUl-sides 
and  dotting  the  valleys,  which  are  the  life  and  hope 
of  a nation.  AH  the  horrid  sights  and  scenes  of 
Socialism,  and  Polygamy,  wmuld  start  up  unblush- 
ingly  at  noonday.  Lust  would  revel  in  unrestricted 
liberty,  and  modest  virtue  would  expire  in  the  streets. 

We  speak  thus  positively  of  these  dreadful  issues, 
because  such  has  ever  been  the  exhibition,  where 
the  Bible  is  unknown.  Even  learned  and  polished 
France,  rejecting  the  Word  of  Life,  rolled  a tide  of 
infamy  over  the  domestic  institution.  Her  language, 
it  is  said,  is  destitute  of  the  word  home,  and  rightly 
enough,  since  she  has  had  few  habitations  that  de- 
serve the  name.  Wherever  the  Scriptures  have  not 
been  circulated,  woman  has  been  degraded,  and 
families,  of  course,  wn^etched.  She  has  been  the  sub- 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


155 


ject  of  brutal  wTongs,  and  has  pined  away  in  the 
most  abject  and  cruel  bondage.  Even  noM^,  in  the 
nineteenth  centmy,  she  is  “ hated  and  despised  from 
her  birth,  and  her  birth  itself  esteemed  a calamity  — 
in  some  countries  not  even  allowed  the  rank  of  a 
moral  and  responsible  agent  — so  tenderly  alive  to 
her  own  degradation  that  she  acquiesces  in  the 
mm-der  of  her  female  offspring  — immured  from  in- 
fancy — without  education  — married  without  her 
consent  — in  a multitude  of  instances,  sold  by  her 
parents — refused  the  confidence  of  her  husband,  and 
banished  from  his  table  — on  her  husband’s  death, 
doomed  to  the  funeral  pile,  or  to  contempt  that 
renders  life  a burden ; — such  is  her  degraded  and 
pitiable  condition,  in  almost  all  except  Christian 
lands.”  * It  is  a fact  worthy  of  notice,  that  there  is 
not  a school  for  the  education  of  females,  among  the 
millions  of  Mohammedans  and  Pagans  scattered 
over  the  earth,  except  those  established  by  the  benev- 
olence of  Christian  people.  And  what  is  more, 
where  the  Bible  is  not,  there  is  no  bright  Elysium, 
no  hope  of  immortality  for  woman.  We  are  told 
that  “ the  Vedas  and  the  Shasters  and  the  Koran 
are  all  for  man.  Their  temples  and  mosques  are  for 
man.  The  hour  of  prayer  is  for  man.  The  sacred 
days  and  the  festivals  are  for  man.  Heaven  itself, 
their  Elysium,  then-  paradise,  is  for  man.  No  place 
is  found  there  for  woman.  The  houri  of  the  Moslem 
is  not  the  spirit  of  a departed  female  of  the  human 
race,  but  a distinct  order,  created  for  the  sensual  grat- 
ification of  the  faithful  in  the  world  of  bliss.  The 


* Dr.  Spring. 


156 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


woman  has  no  need  of  prayer,  of  devotion,  of  re- 
ligion. She  knows  not  that  she  has  a soul.” 

When  men  break  loose  from  the  wholesome  re- 
straints of  the  Bible,  they  run,  with  Robert  Dale 
Owen,  into  disgusting  socialism,  which  snaps  asunder 
the  marriage  bond  whenever  the  parties  desire,  and 
herds  the  sexes  together  in  large  “communities,” 
instead  of  uniting  them  in  peaceful,  pure,  and  affec- 
tionate families ; or,  if  they  do  not  go  heart  and 
hand  with  that  disorganizing  Reformer,  they  never- 
theless attach  little  sacredness  to  the  conjugal  and 
parental  relations.  In  just  so  far  as  they  repudiate 
Christianity,  they  come  to  regard  a trifling  cause 
sufficient  to  sever  the  matrimonial  tie,  and  advocate 
divorce  in  civil  courts,  to  a degree  that  sends  rivers 
of  pollution,  dashing  and  roaring  over  the  land.  We 
care  not  whither  men  turn  to  test  the  declaration ; 
those  men  who  reject  the  Word  of  God  are  the  first 
to  undervalue  the  marriage  bond,  and  the  last  to  stem 
the  pestilential  tide  which  flows  from  unbridled  in- 
dulgence. They  are  least  fit  to  be  husbands  and 
fathers,  — likely  to  wax  worse  and  worse,  until  they 
become  monsters  in  sin,  to  delight  in  vice  and  glory 
in  their  shame.  Blot  out  the  Bible  in  our  land  to- 
day, and  all  the  influences  which  it  has  circulated, 
and  you  open  ten  thousand  sluices  of  corruption  at 
as  many  fireside  altars  to  roll  in  streams  of  moral 
death  from  ocean  to  ocean.  The  family  is  then  sur- 
rounded with  no  stronger  bulwarks  than  are  those 
of  Mahommedan  and  Pagan  countries. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  whatever  is  pure,  and 
peaceful,  and  lovely  in  the  domestic  constitution,  is 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


157 


derived  from  the  Bible.  This  contains  the  family 
charter  of  rights  — the  code  of  laws  and  regulations 
which  are  to  work  out  its  purity,  and  perpetuate 
happiness.  “ Husbands,  love  your  wives,  even  as 
Christ  also  loved  the  church.”  “ Wives,  submit 
yourselves  unto  your  own  husbands  as  unto  the 
Lord.”  “ What  God  hath  joined  together,  let  not 
man  put  asunder.”  “ Children,  obey  your  parents 
in  the  Lord.”  “ And,  ye  fathers,  provoke  not  your 
children  to  wrath ; but  bring  them  up  in  the  nurture 
and  admonition  of  the  Lord.”  In  such  language  do 
the  sacred  Scriptm-es  address  the  members  of  house- 
holds. Carry  these  divine  statutes  to  the  most  be- 
nighted family  of  heathendom,  and  let  the  spirit  of 
God  write  them  upon  the  hearts  of  its  members,  and 
the  domestic  virtues  begin  to  live  and  shine,  as  in 
Christian  lands.  Woman  is  elevated  to  her  true 
dignity,  as  the  help-meet  and  companion  of  her 
husband.  Affection  solders  the  broken  bands  of 
wedlock,  so  that  the  conjugal  relation  is  fruitful  of 
mutual  bliss.  The  hearts  of  parents  are  turned  to 
their  children,  and  the  hearts  of  children  to  their 
parents,  so  that  the  parental  and  filial  relations  in- 
cite to  a mutual  and  honorable  fidelity.  AU  that 
pertains  to  the  Christianized  household  is  renovated, 
and  made  delightful  with  the  charms  and  loveliness 
of  Christian  morality. 

We  may  safely  record  it  as  a fact,  that  wherever  a 
famdy  is  harmonious  and  thoroughly  disciplined,  the 
pleasing  result  has  been  secured  under  the  transform- 
ing influence  of  the  Bible ; and  wherever  rupture 
and  strife  have  nipped  affection  in  the  bud,  and  sev- 
ered ties  that  ought  to  have  been  coexistent  with 

14 


158 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


life,  it  has  been  in  consequence  of  departing  from  the 
counsels  of  the  same  Book  of  books. 

The  traveller,  on  the  brnming  sands  of  Sahara,  can 
tell  where,  in  the  distance,  a perennial  spring  gushes 
from  the  earth,  by  the  lofty  palm-trees  which  wave 
their  green  tops  above  surrounding  barrenness.  So 
may  the  Christian  observer  descry  where,  in  this 
fallen  world,  the  Bible  opens  its  fountain  of  hving 
waters,  by  the  moral  thrift  and  purity,  that  sin- 
gularly contrasts  with  the  decay  and  desolation 
around.  In  the  family,  its  influence  is  not  less 
apparent. 

A thought,  afready  advanced,  needs  to  be  ex- 
panded. It  is  this : where  there  is  no  Bible,  there 
is  httle  or  no  domestic  affection.  Parents  do  not 
seem  to  be  so  sti’ongly  wed  to  their  children,  or  chil- 
dren to  their  parents,  as  in  Christian  lands.  Some 
of  the  most  cruel  and  heart-rending  scenes,  in  the 
annals  of  the  past,  were  enacted  in  households  far 
away  from  the  institutions  of  the  gospel.  It  would 
scarcely  be  possible  to  conceive  of  deeds  on  the 
part  of  the  members  of  a family  more  devoid  of 
affection  than  some  of  those  recorded  of  households, 
where  the  Bible  is  not. 

Convey  yourself,  in  imagination,  over  the  sea  to 
the  green  banks  of  the  Ganges.  The  spicy  groves, 
the  delicious  fruits,  the  balmy  air,  the  charming 
scenery,  all  indicate  that  God  created  such  a coun- 
try and  chmate  for  the  successful  development  of 
all  which  is  lovely  in  the  human  soul.  The  river  rolls 
before  you  in  its  might  and  grandem’,  but  teems 
with  leaping  and  plunging  crocodiles.  The  heathen 
mother,  whom  you  see  with  an  infant  in  her  arms,  is 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


159 


there  to  offer  it  in  sacrifice  to  those  hungry  animals. 
With  tearless  eye  and  unfeeling  heaid  she  flings  it 
into  the  open  jaws  of  one  of  those  hideous  monsters, 
and  claps  her  hands  as  its  little  body  is  gnashed 
upon  by  this  terrible  leviathan. 

Leaving  this  scene  of  maternal  cruelty,  turn  to- 
ward the  crowd  that  is  gathered  in  yonder  vale.  As 
you  approach,  you  discover  an  aged  matron  lying 
prostrate  upon  the  body  of  her  deceased  husband,  on 
the  funeral  pile.  Beside  her  stands  the  eldest  daugh- 
ter, whose  heart  ought  to  glow  with  filial  love  too 
strong  to  admit  of  cruelty,  to  Idndle  with  a blazing 
torch  the  fires  that  are  to  wrap  her  living  mother  in 
then-  flames.  With  cool  deliberation  she  applies  the 
torch,  and  lifts  her  voice  with  the  multitude  in  wild 
vociferations  over  the  harrowing  spectacle. 

Run  back  in  thought  a single  generation,  and 
witness  a scene  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  before  the 
light  of  the  gospel  dissipated  the  moral  darkness. 
See  that  group  of  sons  and  daughters,  who  ought  to 
rally  around  the  infirm  and  aged  parent,  dragging 
forth  from  then-  habitation  the  decrepid  father,  and 
leaving  him  in  solitude  to  perish,  and  become  the 
food  of  birds  and  beasts  of  prey.  Measure  the 
bleaching  bones  of  parents,  scattered  over  Haiwaiian 
fields,  who  were  murdered  by  their  unloving  chil- 
dren, in  order  to  be  rid  of  the  burden  of  then-  sup- 
port. 

With  such  a view,  you  have  a proof  of  the  propo- 
sition, that,  where  there  is  no  Bible,  there  is  no  nat- 
ural affection.  The  fountain  of  love  is  sealed  up, 
and  the  family  becomes  the  theatre  for  enacting  the 
most  tragical  scenes.  A man’s  worst  foes  are  those 


160 


LIFE  AT  THE  PIEESIDE. 


of  his  own  household  ; and  the  greatest  calamity  of 
his  life  may  prove  to  be  his  connection  ■w’ith  a nu- 
merous family. 

But,  to  prove  that  the  fountain  of  affection  is  dried 
up  in  every  household  that  is  unblest  with  the  Bible, 
we  need  not  resort  to  lands  of  ignorance.  We  may 
refer  to  polished  Rome,  in  her  palmiest  days.  Says 
Dr.  Spring,  “ such  was  the  facility  of  obtaining  di- 
vorces among  the  Romans,  that  the  nuptial  tie  of- 
fered not  the  slightest  resistance  to  motives  of  am- 
bition, avarice,  or  irregulated  passion Oc- 

tavia,  the  daughter  of  the  emperor  Claudius,  mar- 
ried Nero,  and  was  repudiated  by  him  for  the  sake 
of  Poppoea.  Poppoea  herself  was  first  married  to 
Rufus  Crispinus ; then  to  Otho ; and  at  length  to 
Nero,  by  whom  she  was  killed  by  a violent  blow,  at 
a period  when  the  trials  of  her  sex  should  have 
been  her  protection.  For  his  third  wife,  Nero  mar- 
ried Thessalina,  and  to  possess  her  person,  murdered 
her  husband.  Julia,  the  daughter  of  Augustus,  was 
married  first  to  MarceUus,  then  to  Agrippa,  and  then 
to  Tiberius.  Livia  Oristella  was  on  the  eve  of  a 
maiTiage  with  Caius  Piso,  when  Caligula,  enamored 
of  her  beauty,  carried  her  off  by  force,  and  in  a few 

days  after  repudiated  her The  extent  to 

which  the  license  was  carried  may  also  be  learned 
from  the  poet  Martial,  who  tells  us  that  ‘ when  the 
Julian  law  against  adultery  was  revived,  as  a pre- 
ventive to  the  occupation  of  the  age,  t^dthin  thirty 
DAYS  Thessalina  married  her  tenth  husband,  thus 
legally  evading  those  restramts  which  the  laws  had 
imposed  upon  her.’ 

“ The  Bible  is  indispensable  in  the  family  as  a text- 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


161 


book  for  children.  It  is  a cyclopedia  of  facts,  and 
a picture-gallery  of  characters.  The  worldling  thinks 
it  unattractive ; but  he  would  scarcely  dream  that  he 
had  seen  it,  were  its  thrilling  scenes  painted  upon 
canvas.  An  excellent  writer  says,  ‘ God  knew  that 
few  would  ever  ask,  what  must  I do  to  be  saved  ? ’ 
tiU  they  came  in  contact  with  the  Bible  itself ; and, 
therefore,  he  made  the  Bible  not  only  an  instructive 
book,  but  an  attractive  one,  — not  only  true,  but  en- 
ticing. He  fiUed  it  with  marvellous  incident  and 
engaging  history,  — with  sunny  pictures  from  the 
old-world  scenery,  and  affecting  anecdotes  from  the 
patriarch  times.  He  replenished  it  with  stately  ar- 
gument and  thrilling  verse,  and  sprinkled  it  over  with 
sententious  wisdom  and  proverbial  pungency.  He 
made  it  a book  of  lofty  thoughts  and  noble  images, 
— a book  of  heavenly  doctrine,  but  withal  of  earth- 
ly adaptation.  In  preparing  a guide  to  immortality. 
Infinite  Wisdom  gave  not  a dictionary  nor  a gram- 
mar, but  a Bible,  — a book  which,  in  trying  to  catch 
the  heart  of  man,  should  captivate  his  taste ; and 
which,  in  transforming  his  affections,  should  also  ex- 
pand his  intellect.  The  pearl  is  of  great  price  ; but 
even  the  casket  is  of  exquisite  beauty.  The  sword  is 
of  ethereal  temper,  and  nothing  cuts  so  keenly  as  its 
double  edge ; but  there  are  jewels  on  the  hilt,  and 
fine  tracery  on  the  scabbard.  The  shekels  are  of 
purest  ore ; but  even  the  script  that  contains  them 
is  of  a texture  more  curious  than  that  the  artists  of 
earth  could  fashion  it.  The  apples  are  gold ; but 
even  the  basket  is  silver.” 

To  the  gay  and  thoughtless,  this  may  seem  like 
extravagant  language.  To  them,  there  may  appear 
14* 


162 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


nothing  of  beauty  and  grace  in  the  Bible,  that  they 
should  be  captivated  by  its  charms.  They  skim  over 
its  pages,  as  the  flitting  swallow  skims  the  crystal 
surface  of  the  lake.  They  afford  themselves  no 
more  opportunity  to  survey  the  celestial  scenery,  than 
the  traveller,  in  a rushing  railroad  car  enjoys,  to  sur- 
vey the  natural.  The  gems  of  the  Bible  are  “ hid 
treasure,”  discovered  and  possessed  only  by  mining. 
Once  uncovered,  and  the  mind  may  be  admitted  to 
spacious  chambers,  filled  \Adth  the  diamonds  and 
precious  stones  of  truth. 

There  is  a fabulous  account  of  a land  of  gold, 
whither  a hopeful  adventurer,  with  hundreds  from 
every  clime,  journeyed  for  the  gathering  of  princely 
fortunes.  In  his  eager  searchings  he  discovered  a 
subterranean  cavern,  whose  winding  labyrinths  had 
never  been  explored.  Attracted  by  a few  diamonds 
spariding  at  its  opening,  the  delighted  adventurer 
entered,  and  rejoicingly  stooped  to  gather  the  few 
scattered  gems  that  shone  at  his  feet ; — when  lo ! 
his  eyes  were  dazzled  by  the  bmaiing  brightness  that 
proceeded  from  an  opening  recess.  He  hastened  on, 
and  soon  found  himself  in  a chamber  of  pearls  and 
all  manner  of  precious  stones,  sending  up  their 
brightness  from  his  feet,  and  pomdng  down  the  light 
of  a thousand  suns  from  above  his  head.  On,  on  he 
hurried,  to  learn  the  vastness  of  this  resplendent 
chamber;  but  he  found  no  end.  The  further  he 
explored,  the  more  he  saw  to  fill  him  with  surprise,  — 
the  richer  diamonds  shed  upon  him  their  more  than 
pyrotechnic  splendor. 

So  does  the  Bible  reveal  an  exhaustless  mine  of 
mental  and  moral  lore.  The  further  and  longer  we 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


163 


explore,  the  more  we  behold  to  excite  our  admi- 
ration ; and  could  we  live  a thousand  lives  in  grand 
succession,  we  could  never  know  the  limits  of  its 
heavenly  treasure. 

But  we  must  search,  dig,  study.  The  farmer 
“ subsoUs  ” his  land,  and  makes  it  rich  to  yield  a 
double  crop,  by  turning  up  the  earth  to  the  depth  of 
fifteen  inches  below  the  sm'face.  The  pearl-diver 
descends  many  feet  through  the  watery  element,  to 
gather  his  riches  from  the  ocean’s  bed.  There  isj 
also,  a kind  of  subsoiling  and  diving  necessary  to 
discover  the  riches  of  the  Bible. 

That  the  Scriptures  contain  numerous  incidents, 
lessons,  and  scenes,  which  may  be  made  to  appear 
captivating  to  children,  is  evident  from  the  fact,  thnt 
they  become  exceedingly  fascinating  when  trans- 
ferred to  canvas  by  the  brush  of  the  skilful  artist. 
The  Deluge,  by  Trumbull — Moses  on  the  Nile,  by 
Rembrant  — Moses  striking  the  Rock,  by  Poussin  — 
Belshazzar’s  Feast,  by  Martin  — Moses  receiving  the 
Law  — Paul’s  Shipwreck  — Christ  rejected,  and 
Death  on  the  Pale  Horse,  by  West  — the  Last 
Supper,  by  Davinci  — Christ  in  the  Garden,  by 
Guido  — the  Fall  of  the  Damned,  and  the  Resurrec- 
tion of  the  Just,  by  Rubens  — the  Transfiguration 
and  the  Madonna,  by  Raphael,  — these  are  among 
the  most  distinguished  pieces  of  the  above-named 
artists.  The  beholder  stands  rapt  in  admiration,  as 
his  eye  rests  upon  these  wonderful  productions. 

What  examples  of  History  are  more  bewitching 
and  instructive  than  those  of  the  illustrious  patri- 
archs Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob ! What  can  be 


164 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


more  natural  and  affecting  than  the  history  of 
Joseph,  and  the  story  of  the  Cross?  What  more 
simple  and  graphic  than  the  narratives  of  Ruth  and 
Esther,  of  Moses,  David,  and  Paul?  There  is  no 
need  of  beguiling  the  evening  hours  of  children  with 
the  rehearsal  of  fictitious,  meaningless  stories,  when 
the  Bible  furnishes  truthful  tales,  romantic  with 
incident,  and  pointed  with  a touching  moral.  It 
may  demand  of  the  parent  more  familiarity  with  the 
Scriptures  to  be  able  to  describe  graphically  one  of 
its  scenes ; but  the  effort  to  become  thus  acquainted 
with  its  facts  and  truths  is  amply  remunerated  by 
inciting  the  intellect,  and  refreshing  the  soul.  Let 
us  here  record  one  of  these  Scripture  narratives  as 
an  illustration. 

The  Nile  is  a large  river  in  the  land  of  Egypt. 
Many  years  ago,  a cruel  king,  by  the  name  of  Pha- 
raoh, commanded  all  the  Hebrew  mothers  to  throw 
their  little  infant  boys  into  this  river.  The  king  did 
this,  because  he  thought  the  Hebrews  were  his  ene- 
mies ; and  if  their  boys  were  allowed  to  live,  and 
grow  to  be  men,  they  would  be  so  numerous  that 
they  would  be  able  to  conquer  his  nation.  But  if 
he  killed  the  boys,  by  and  by  there  would  be  no 
men  to  fight  against  him.  Now,  the  Nile  was  a 
river  in  which  crocodiles  and  other  dangerous  animals 
lived  in  great  abundance.  So  that  every  little  child, 
thrown  into  it,  would  be  immediately  seized  by  one 
of  these  huge  monsters.  It  was  truly  a very  cruel 
act  of  the  king,  to  compel  loving  mothers  to  cast 
their  little  babes  into  this  stream  to  be  eaten  by  the 
crocodiles!  How  their  hearts  must  have  bled  as 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


165 


they  kissed  them  for  the  last  time,  and  gave  them  up 
to  die  in  this  horrible  manner ! How  sad  and  des- 
olate it  left  their  homes  ! 

There  lived  close  by  the  banks  of  this  river  a 
family,  who  might  have  been  poor,  but  as  good  as 
any  other  in  Pharaoh’s  wide  dominions.  Soon  after 
the  Idng  published  his  cruel  decree,  a son  was  born 
to  these  Hebrew  parents.  They  looked  upon  the 
lovely  creature,  and  then  thought  of  the  king’s  com- 
mand to  destroy  the  male  children.  Their  hearts 
were  wrung  with  anguish.  It  was  the  saddest  hour 
of  their  lives.  How  could  they  endure  to  see  the 
innocent  babe  tossed  into  the  Nile ! How  could  they 
part  with  a treasure  so  dear  and  promising ! The 
mother  could  not  indulge  the  thought.  So  she  took 
the  babe  and  hid  it  in  some  secret  corner  of  her 
house.  For  three  months  she  succeeded  in  eluding 
the  king’s  officers,  who  were  on  the  alert  to  see  if  his 
decree  was  obeyed.  Often  its  pitiful  cries  threatened 
to  draw  some  vigilant  officer  to  its  hiding-place  ; but 
the  ever-anxious  mother  would  hush  its  voice  by 
pressing  it  to  her  bosom,  and  loading  it  with  ca- 
resses. But,  alas  ! the  secret  was  at  length  divulged ! 
Some  one  had  heard  the  cries  of  the  hidden  child ! 
It  was  noised  abroad,  as  the  parents  verily  believed, 
that  a son  was  concealed  in  their  habitation.  What 
should  now  be  done  ? If  once  discovered,  it  might 
be  dashed  in  pieces  before  their  eyes,  and  they  them- 
selves condemned  to  die,  for  disobeying  the  unfeel- 
ing king.  In  her  woful  perplexity,  the  mother  re- 
solved what  to  do.  She  constructed  an  ark,  or 
basket,  in  which  the  child  might  be  preserved  from 
the  fury  of  crocodiles,  and,  if  caught  by  the  tide, 


166 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


should  float  upon  the  water,  perhaps,  till  God  should 
provide  a way  for  its  deliverance.  Hastily  she  laid 
the  babe  in  the  basket,  and  taking  her  only  daughter 
with  her  — a girl  about  twelve  years  of  age  — 
hurried  away  to  the  brink  of  the  sweeping  river. 
The  banks  were  lined  with  flags.  In  these  she  care- 
fully deposited  the  basket  in  which  the  infant  lay, 
and,  giving  her  little  daughter  suitable  instructions, 
left  her  at  a short  distance  to  watch  it,  while  she 
returned  to  her  home.  She  evidently  thought  some 
Egyptian  might  discover  the  child,  and  take  pity 
upon  it.  How  full  of  sadness  were  those  moments 
to  that  mother ! How  anxiously  she  must  have 
waited  in  her  dwelling,  now  looldng  out  at  the  door, 
and  then  at  the  window,  toward  the  spot  where 
she  laid  the  young  child ! But  soon,  as  God  would 
have  it,  a daughter  of  the  wicked  king  went  down 
to  the  river  with  her  maidens.  As  she  approached 
the  flags,  she  spied  the  singular  basket,  which  she 
ordered  to  be  brought  to  her.  What  was  her  sur- 
prise, on  opening  it,  to  find  therein  a little  infant ! 
The  child  looked  up  imploringly,  and  “ wept,”  as  if 
to  move  the  heart  of  the  princely  woman  to  pity. 
Its  mournful  cry  the  youthful  princess  could  not  re- 
sist. Slie  felt  that  God  sent  her  there  to  beMend 
the  child ; and  she  resolved  to  adopt,  and  call  it  her 
own.  All  this  time,  the  little  girl,  whom  the  mother 
left  to  watch,  was  looking  on,  miobserved,  at  a short 
distance.  With  a modesty  and  tact  which  few  girls 
of  her  age  possess,  she  stepped  forward,  and  recom- 
mended a Hebrew  woman,  to  nurse  the  child.  It 
was  her  own  mother,  and  the  mother  of  the  infant 
too.  But  this  the  daughter  of  Pharaoh  knew  not. 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


167 


The  suggestion  was  adopted ; and,  in  a short  time, 
the  child  was  in  the  arms  of  its  mother,  no  longer  to 
be  concealed ; for  it  was  now  the  adopted  son  of  the 
princess,  and  its  mother  was  known  only  as  its 
nurse.  Happy,  thrice  happy  mother!  The  child 
was  saved,  and  her  habitation  made  glad  with  its 
presence  ! How  remarkable  the  providence ! How 
wonderful  the  goodness  of  God ! Time  rolled  on, 
and  the  boy  became  a man,  educated  by  the  kind- 
ness of  the  princess  in  all  the  “ learning  of  the  Egyp- 
tians,” and  as  good  as  he  was  great.  He  became 
the  most  renowned  legislator  and  statesman  of  that 
primitive  age. 

Such  a narrative  is  captivating  as  a tale  of  fiction, 
while  it  is  truthful  as  the  Word  of  God.  It  pleases 
and  charms,  while  it  teaches  such  weighty  and  im- 
portant truths  as  the  following : — The  mysterious 
ways  of  Providence  — Good  out  of  evil  — The 
wicked  snared  in  the  work  of  their  own  hands  — 
The  humble  raised  to  power — God’s  blessing  upon 
the  faithful. 

The  Scriptures  are  abundant  in  similar  scenes. 
They  abound,  also,  in  characters.  K the  parent 
would  impress  the  child  with  the  rewards  of  integ- 
rity and  the  importance  of  fraternal  affection,  there 
is  the  narrative  of  Joseph.  K filial  regard  is  the  de- 
sired lesson,  there  is  the  history  of  Ruth  on  the  one 
hand,  with  its  delightful  issues,  and  that  of  Absalom 
on  the  other,  with  its  direful  calamities.  If  the  object 
be  to  awaken  in  the  child’s  heart  an  admiration  for 
human  excellence,  there  is  the  character  of  the  youth- 
ful Samuel.  Or,  if  it  be  to  create  a repugnance  to 
immorality,  and  aU  that  is  debasing  and  unlovely  in 


168 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


human  conduct,  there  is  the  life  of  the  unprincipled 
and  abandoned  Amnon.  The  Bible  contains  his- 
torical lessons,  not  only  for  every  family,  but  for 
every  child  in  a family  ; and  not  only  for  every  child, 
but  for  the  cultivation  of  every  desired  virtue  in 
every  child. 

The  writer  once  passed  an  evening  in  the  family 
of  a professed  infidel.  He  was  a reasonable,  intelli- 
gent man,  so  far  as  it  is  possible  for  an  infidel 
to  be.  He  revered  the  Bible  as  a book  of  wisdom 
and  pure  morality.  He  advocated  its  reading  in  the 
district  schools,  and  sent  his  children  to  the  Sabbath 
school  to  study  it.  Yet  he  beheved  it  to  be  unin- 
spired, — a work  of  consummate  human  genius.  I 
gradually  approached  the  subject  which  would  most 
naturally  claim  attention  in  an  interview  with  such 
a man  — the  divine  authenticity  of  the  Scriptures. 
His  numerous  family  of  children  were  sitting  around 
the  room  in  listening  attitude,  when  he  whispered  in 
my  ear,  “ I do  not  wish  my  children  to  hear  me  ex- 
press my  vieAvs  : I do  not  wish  they  should  believe 
as  I do.”  He  afterwards  frankly  confessed  that  he 
desired  the  moulding  influence  of  the  Bible  to  be 
felt  in  his  family,  — that  if  his  children  would  love 
and  reverence  it,  he  should  feel  confident  of  their 
moral  safety.  I was  defighted  with  this  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  Bible’s  power  in  the  family,  coming, 
as  it  did,  from  a professed  infidel.  He  spoke  the  sin- 
cere convictions  of  his  mind.  He  had  interest,  deep 
and  true,  swelling  up  from  the  depths  of  his  soul, 
in  that  group  of  immortal  minds  ; and  earth  had  not 
a book  hallowed  enough,  in  his  view,  to  direct  their 
unfolding  powers,  except  the  Bible.  If  this  could 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


169 


develop  the  characters  of  his  children,  he  could  send 
them  forth  with  a glad  heart  to  battle  with  the  em- 
issaries of  sin. 

Such  must  be  the  feelings  of  every  reflecting  par- 
ent. Let  the  Bible  be  a work  of  human  genius,  and 
not  a transcript  of  the  will  of  God,  and  even  then 
the  child  who  will  fold  it  to  his  bosom  and  bind  its 
precepts  to  his  heart,  will  rejoice  his  parents  in  the 
security  with  which  he  stands  up  against  the  rush- 
ing tide  of  worldliness.  Its  pure  precepts  and  prin- 
ciples are  better,  in  the  prosecution  of  life’s  great 
errand,  than  splendid  endowments,  or  the  munitions 
of  war. 

Men  feel  a sort  of  safety  where  the  Bible  is  found. 
A good  story,  which  happily  illustrates  this  point,  is 
told  of  a Christian  gentleman  and  infidel,  travelling 
- in  a sparsely  populated  district  of  the  West.  Their 
fears  were  somewhat  excited  by  flying  rumors  that 
the  region  was  infested  with  robbers,  and  that  the 
general  character  of  the  people  was  suspicious.  One 
day,  night  overtook  them  in  a desolate  place,  and 
they  were  compelled  to  seek  lodging  in  a dirty  and 
dreary  cabin.  The  strange  appearance  of  their  host 
excited  their  distrust,  and  they  imagined  that  he  was 
designing  foul  play.  They  resolved  that  one  only 
should  sleep  at  a time,  and  the  other  should  watch. 
But  while  suspicion  was  on  tiptoe,  the  lord  of  the 
cabin  quietly  took  down  a Bible  from  the  shelf,  re- 
marking, “ it  is  my  custom  to  observe  family  wor- 
ship before  retiring.”  I need  not  say  that  both  of 
the  travellers  dismissed  their  fears,  and  slept  quietly 
through  the  night. 

In  the  morning,  the  Christian  gentleman  inquired 

15 


170 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


of  his  infidel  companion,  if  the  sight  of  the  Bible,  on 
the  previous  evening,  did  not  completely  dissipate 
his  fears.  He  frankly  confessed  that  it  did.  Here 
was  testimony  extorted  from  a foe  to  the  Scriptures, 
which  shows  their  value  in  the  family.  A “ king’s 
arm,”  or  a huge  “ blunderbuss  ” at  his  bedside,  wotild 
not  have  afforded  him  so  congenial  protection,  as  did 
the  sight  of  that  Bible.  It  matters  not  whether  his 
feelings  and  professions  accorded  at  the  time  or  not, 
the  fact  remains  the  same.  A similar  feeling  is  very 
general.  The  mother  has  fewest  anxieties  about  the 
son  or  daughter  who  makes  the  Bible  a daily  com- 
panion. The  traveller  infers  that  the  inn,  whose 
rooms  are  furnished  with  Bibles  instead  of  dice,  is 
a respectable  house.  The  merchant  who  sees  the 
Bible  roll  out  of  his  clerk’s  trunk,  as  he  unpacks  it, 
is  wefinigh  disposed  to  give  him  Ins  confidence  at 
once.  The  boy,  who  seeks  a home  in  city  or  coun- 
try, has  no  better  recommendation  than  his  mother’s 
“ gift-Bible  ” in  his  pocket.  So  a household,  v\ith 
a loved  and  revered  Bible,  has  usually  a good  rep- 
utation. 

The  Bible  proves  the  richest  treasure  in  the  family 
in  seasons  of  trial.  Men  in  aU  ages  and  nations 
have  resorted  to  their  religion  for  solace  in  adversity. 
Here  alone  they  hav'e  sought  to  find  relief  for  the 
oppressed  and  sinking  spirit.  But  I need  not  dilate 
upon  this  topic,  since  it  is  discussed  in  a subsequent 
chapter.*  I will  simply  present  in  contrast  some  of 
the  death-scenes  which  have  been  witnessed  in  fam- 
ilies with,  and  wdthout,  the  Bible. 


* Chapter  9. 


THE  FAMILY  BIBLE. 


171 


Baxter  exclaimed,  when  he  was  about  to  step 
down  into  the  dark  valley,  “ I am  almost  well.” 
Owen  raised  his  hand  and  said  to  a friend,  “ O 
brother ! the  long-looked-for  day  is  come  at  last,  in 
which  I shall  see  the  glory  of  Christ  in  another  man- 
ner than  I have  ever  yet  done.”  Martyn,  dying  far 
away  from  his  native  land,  in  distant  Persia,  wrote 
in  view  of  death,  “ I sat  alone  and  thought  with  sweet 
comfort  and  peace  of  God,  in  solitude  my  company, 
my  friend,  and  comforter.”  Evarts  shouted  “ Glory ! 
Jesus  reigns  ; ” and  closed  his  eyes  in  death.  And 
Payson  exclaimed,  in  his  conflict  with  the  “ last  ene- 
my,” “ The  battle  is  fought ! the  battle  is  fought ! 
and  the  victory  is  won  forever.” 

On  the  other  hand,  Voltaire,  who  called  Jesus 
Christ  “ the  wretch,”  and  poured  contempt  upon  his 
gospel,  exclaimed,  in  the  agonies  of  death,  “ I am 
abandoned  of  God  and  man.  I shall  go  -to  hell.” 
IVIhabeau  died,  calling  out,  “ Give  me  more  lauda- 
num, that  I may  not  think  of  eternity,  and  what  is 
to  come.”  “ O eternity ! eternity ! ” cried  the  dying 
Newport,  “ who  can  paraphrase  on  the  words  for- 
ever and  ever  ? ” The  expiring  Altamont  exclaimed, 
“ Remorse  for  the  past  throws  my  thoughts  on  the 
future.  Worse  dread  of  the  future  strikes  them  back 
on  the  past.  I turn,  and  turn,  and  find  no  ray. 
Death  is  knocking  at  my  door  ; in  a few  hours  more 
I shall  draw  my  last  gasp ; and  then  the  judgment, 
the  tremendous  judgment ! ” 

Precious,  thrice  precious  is  the  Bible  for  the  death- 
scene  in  the  family ! 

The  Christian  prays  and  toils  for  the  salvation  of 
this  ruined  world.  The  mighty  work  wiU  be  accom- 


172 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


plished  by  making  the  accession  of  families,  one  by 
one,  to  the  elect  of  God.  The  church  does  not  num- 
ber her  trophies  by  nations,  but  rather  by  individuals 
and  households.  How,  then,  shall  we  hasten  more 
sm’ely  the  redemption  of  mankind  than  by  giving 
the  Word  of  God  to  every  family?  We  may  mar- 
shal troops,  mightier  than  the  forces  of  Xerxes  or 
Alexander,  to  subjugate  belligerent  nations  ; we  may- 
spread  the  refinement  of  learning  and  the  arts,  more 
polished  than  ever  gifted  the  Grecian  or  Roman 
States  ; we  may  foster  a patriotism  more  self-deny- 
ing and  sleepless  than  that  of  fabled  story  ; but  the 
millennial  morning  will  not  break  upon  the  darkness 
of  earth,  and  the  consummation  of  Christian  hope 
be  realized,  mitU  it  can  be  said,  by  a faithful  and  ex- 
ultant church,  the  Bible  is  in  every  Family. 

“ Star  of  Eternity  ! the  only  star 
By  which  the  bark  of  man  could  nayigate 
The  sea  of  life,  and  gain  the  shores  of  bliss 
Securely  ! only  star  which  rose  on  time, 

And  on  its  dark  and  troubled  billows,  still 
As  generation,  drifting  swiftly  by. 

Succeeded  generation,  threw  a ray 
Of  heayen’s  own  light,  and  to  the  hills  of  God, 

The  eternal  hills,  pointed  the  sinner’s  eye.”  * 


* Pollock. 


VIII. 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


“ Prayer  is  the  golden  key  that  can  open  the  wicket  of  Mercy; 

Prayer  is  the  slender  nerve  that  moveth  the  muscles  of  Omnipotence.” 

Tupper. 

“ Then  kneeling  down  to  heaven’s  eternal  King, 

'I'he  saint,  tlie  father,  and  the  husband  prays, 

Hope  springs  exulting  on  triumphant  wing. 

And  thus  they  all  shall  meet  in  future  days.” 

Burns. 


We  have  estimated  the  value  of  the  Sabbath  and 
the  Bible  to  the  family.  The  Altar  of  Prayer  is  the 
last,  though  not  the  least,  in  this  trio  of  household 
blessings.  Separately  they  have  a positive  and  hal- 
lowing influence  ; but  in  union,  their  greatest  power 
is  exhibited.  As  “ the  stem,  the  leaf,  and  the  flower  ” 
produce  the  thriving  plant ; as  “ substance,  coherence, 
and  weight  ” give  figure  to  the  countless  objects  of 
earth ; as  “ the  beginning,  middle,  and  end,”  fashion 
the  immortal  epic  ; as  “ the  will,  the  doing,  and  deed, 
cotabine  to  frame  a fact ; ” so  the  Sabbath,  the  Bible, 
and  the  domestic  Altar  are  the  three  appointed  uni- 
ties which  can  fashion  a model  family.  As  the  leaf 
and  the  flower  are  not  the  plant  without  the  stem ; 
as  coherence  and  weight  are  not  the  fabric  without 
substance ; as  the  doing  and  the  deed  are  not  the 

15  * (173) 


174 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE* 


fact  without  the  will ; so  the  Sabbath  and  the  Bible 
are  not  the  blessing  which  God  designed  to  the 
family  without  the  Altar  of  Prayer. 

The  duty  of  family  prayer  is  not  derived  from 
direct  Divine  commandment.  The  Scriptures  teach 
it  rather  inferentially.  Reason  enforces  this  impor- 
tant duty.  Conscience  smiles  approval.  And,  es- 
pecially, the  example  of  the  faithful,  in  all  ages  since 
the  advent  of  Christ,  commends  it  to  our  regard. 
Far  back  in  “ the  track  of  time  ” to  the  period  when 
God’s  peojile  were  in  “ perils  oft”  for  “ the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints,”  we  learn  that  the  Altar  was 
erected  in  the  household.  Morning  and  evening,  the 
dependent  and  grateful  members  gathered  around  it 
in  acts  of  pure  devotion.  It  was  their  “refuge  in 
time  of  trouble  ” — their  “ fortress  ” and  “ strength,” 
“ the  horn  of  their  salvation,”  and  their  “ high  tower.” 
The  blessings  too  that  have  crow^ned  the  efforts  of 
parents  who  have  faithfully  observed  this  rite  in  the 
family  amount  to  an  affirmation  that  God  regards 
it  with  delight.  As  it  is  the  duty  of  the  heads  of 
households  to  avail  theiuselves  of  all  the  possible 
agencies  of  moral  power  in  moulding  human  char- 
acters, so  it  becomes  their  duty  to  “ rear  an  altar  to 
the  Lord,”  if  its  influence  is  as  sanctifying,  through 
Divine  grace,  as  facts  and  the  nature  of  the  rite 
clearly  evince. 

There  is  power  in  prayer.  The  Duke  of  Bedford 
was  wont  to  say,  “ I consider  the  prayers  of  God’s 
ministers  and  people  as  the  best  walls  around  my 
house.”  There  is  security  in  prayer ; for  it  has 
power  with  God.  It  brings  the  “ wall  of  .fire,”  and 
the  “ pillar  of  a clourl,”  for  defence.  On  the  first 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAE. 


175 


Monday  of  January,  1833,  an  extraordinary  religious 
interest  was  manifest  at  the  missionary  stations  in 
different  parts  of  the  world.  Hundreds  resorted  to 
the  missionaries  to  inquh-e,  what  they  must  do  to  be 
saved.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a great  religious 
awakening.  On  that  day,  the  churches  of  Christen- 
dom were  assembled  to  pray  for  the  nations  that  sit 
in  darkness.  The  meetings  for  prayer  were  reported 
to  be  unusually  solemn  and  interesting.  Saints 
called  upon  God  with  unwonted  fervor  and  faith. 
Some  were  said  to  “ wrestle  ” with  him.  Is  not 
here  a connection  between  prayer  and  the  religious 
awakening  in  heathen  lands  ? May  we  not  properly 
regard  it  as  cause  and  effect  ? There  is  power,  then, 
in  prayer, — power  with  God,  and  through  him, 
power  with  man. 

“ Prayer  is  a creature’s  strengtli,  his  very  breath  and  being.”  * 

It  may  possess  the  same  power  in  the  Family  as  in 
the  church  or  closet.  “ The  effectual  fervent  prayer 
of  a righteous  man  availeth  much.”  It  will  bless  the 
supphant  parent  as  really  as  the  supphant  church- 
member.  It  can  bless  the  children  as  easily  as  sin- 
ners in  the  street.  There  is  abundant  reason,  then, 
to  decide  with  Joshua,  “ as  for  me  and  my  house,  we 
will  serve  the  Lord.” 

The  first  effect  of  family  prayer  is,  it  wins  the  con- 
fidence of  men.  The  openly  wicked,  who  sneer  at 
the  humble  followers  of  Christ,  may  make  them- 
selves merry  over  this  family  rite  ; yet,  after  aU,  they 
have  peculiar  confidence  in  the  man,  who  sincerely 


* Tuppei’. 


176 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


assembles  his  family,  morning  and  evening,  for  devo- 
tion. The  godless  wayfarer,  tarrying  for  the  night 
with  a stranger  in  some  dreary  wdld,  thinks  well  of 
him,  if  he  bows  with  his  household  at  the  altar  of 
prayer  before  retiring  for  the  night.  His  confidence 
may  be  misplaced,  since  hypocrisy  assumes  various 
disguises.  But  the  ceremony  is  effectual  to  cause 
him  to  feel  that  he  is  enjoying  the  hospitalities  of  a 
worthy  family. 

The  briefest  visit  to  a family  usually  leaves  some 
definite  impression  upon  the  mind.  General  appear- 
ances cause  us  to  infer  that  one  family  is  distin- 
guished for  this,  another  for  that  good  or  evil  quah- 
ty.  As  we  meet  the  individual,  a stranger,  perhaps, 
his  countenance,  demeanor,  speech,  one  or  all,  force 
the  mind  upon  a train  of  inferences.  We  have  our 
opinions  concerning  him  without  trial  or  jury.  Right 
or  wrong,  the  mind  wlU  infer.  So  it  is  with  the 
family.  Doubtless,  every  ninety-nine  persons  in  a 
hundred,  tarrying  for  a night  with  a stranger-house- 
hold,  will  be  very  favorably  impressed  by  the  morn- 
ing and  evening  devotions.  They  wiU  set  a higher 
price  upon  the  moral  reputation  of  the  household. 

hlore  is  generally  expected  of  a family  in  which 
an  altar  of  prayer  is  reared.  Men  wait  to  behold 
tlie  inffuence  of  the  sacred  exercise  upon  parents 
and  children.  If  the  same  godliness  and  profanation 
of  holy  things  is  witnessed  in  the  sons  as  mar  the 
moral  beauty  of  other  domestic  circles,  they  are 
sometimes  led  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  the  sup- 
plicating father.  This  is  no  other  than  a Tribute 
paid  to  the  power  of  family  prayer.  It  is  ^■irtuaUy 
saying,  “ The  Altar  ought  to  elevate  the  moral  char- 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAB. 


177 


acter  of  every  member  of  the  household.  It  ought 
to  multiply  whatever  is  ‘ lovely  and  of  good  report.’ 
It  has  power  to  mould  a household  into  a model 
family.  It  can  restrain  base  and  violent  propensities, 
and  guide  the  wayward  footsteps  of  youth  into  the 
paths  of  peace.” 

Thus,  by  the  inklings  of  even  wicked  men,  great 
importance  is  attached  to  family  prayer,  as  a moral 
improvement,  and  an  expression  of  moral  worth. 
These  intimations  of  mankind  proceed  from  the 
honest  convictions  of  the  heart,  so  that  we  feel  safe 
in  stating  the  proposition,  that  prayer  in  the  family, 
properly  conducted,  wins  the  confidence  of  men. 

The  exercise  of  prayer  will  unite  the  members  of 
a family  by  stronger  ties  of  affection.  Prayer,  in 
general,  with  almost  magical  influence,  eradicates 
moroseness  and  enmity  from  the  human  heart.  Two 
enemies  wiU  speedily  become  friends,  when  praying 
for  each  other.  Alienations  are  burned  up  upon 
the  altar  of  devotion.  No  man  will  become  our  foe, 
so  long  as  he  sincerely  remembers  us  at  the  throne 
of  grace.  We  are  confident  of  sharing  his  warm 
attachment  so  long  as  we  have  a place  in  his 
prayers.  Hostility  to  us  cannot  abide  in  his  heart, 
if  he  is  a sincere  suppliant  in  our  behalf.  Nor,  on 
the  other  hand,  can  we  long  indulge  enmity  to 
another,  if  we  make  him  the  subject  of  earnest 
prayer.  However  much  he  may  have  wronged  us, 
our  hearts  embrace  him  in  the  exercise  of  forgiveness 
and  love  so  long  as  the  true  spirit  of  prayer  leads 
us  to  supplicate  God’s  blessing  upon  him.  Thus 
prayer  eradicates  sourness,  jealousy,  envy,  bitterness, 
and  enmity  from  the  soul  of  the  contrite  suppli- 


178 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


ant,  and  fosters  love,  with  its  long  train  of  celestial 
graces. 

Prayer  has  this  effect  upon  the  worshipping  fam- 
ily. We  do  not  mean  that  such  enmity  as  we  have 
described  above  arrays  the  members  of  households 
against  each  other.  But  there  is  a vast  difference  in 
the  strength  of  the  bonds  of  affection  which  miite 
different  households.  Says  Dr.  Alexander,  “ there 
are  striking  differences  among  famUies,  in  regard  to 
the  simple  quality  of  cohesion.  While  some  are  a 
bare  collection  of  so  many  particles,  without  mutual 
attraction,  others  are  consolidated  into  a unity  of 
love.  Many  scattering  influences  are  at  work.  Some 
of  these  may  be  referred  to  want  of  system  and  reg- 
ularity ; some  to  late  hours ; some  to  pecuUarities  of 
business  ; some  to  fashion  ; and  some  to  the  dissipa- 
tion of  vice.”  Family  prayer  tends  to  miite  these 
varying  elements,  — to  increase  the  attractive  force 
of  affection, — to  consolidate  these  repellant  parts  into 
a beautiful  oneness.  The  child  can  nowhere  be  so 
favorably  impressed  with  the  strength  of  a parent’s 
love  — a grace  which  children  appreciate  — as  at  the 
family  altar.  For  there  it  gushes  out  from  the  soul 
in  unfeigned  and  unstudied  expressions  of  tender- 
ness, as  the  group  of  children  are  made  the  subjects 
of  special  prayer,  and  God  is  implored  to  care  for 
their  eternal  interests. 

Family  prayer  makes  ineffaceable  impressions 
upon  childhood.  Mind  is  weUnigh  chameleonlike, 
taldng  the  hue  of  whatsoever  thing  it  touches.  A 
word,  a look,  a deed,  is  enough  to  inscribe  an  imper- 
ishable record  upon  its  imperishable  tablet.  A tran- 
sient act  may  impress  it  lastingly.  And  when  that 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


179 


act  is  repeated  day  after  day,  and  year  after  year,  as  is 
the  fact  with  family  devotions,  the  effect  may  exceed 
the  arithmetic  of  human  computation.  The  re- 
nowned Carthaginian,  who  desired  to  awaken  in  the 
bosom  of  his  son  an  undying  hatred  to  the  Roman, 
led  him  to  the  altar  in  childhood,  and  there  made  him 
swear  revenge  to  the  Eternal  City.  The  impression 
survived  the  changes  and  fluctuations  of  time,  and 
brought  the  son,  a foe,  burning  with  unsparing  hate, 
to  the  walls  of  Imperial  Rome.  So  the  Christian  par- 
ent may  hope  to  wed  the  heart  of  his  child  as  strongly 
to  truth  and  God,  by  leading  him  daily,  with  solemn 
and  reverent  mien,  to  the  altar  of  prayer.  It  is  there 
that  he  receives  his  first  impressions  of  the  existence 
of  God,  and  a future  state  of  endless  felicity  or  wo. 
There  these  fundamental  truths  of  Christianity  gain 
access  to  his  heart,  without  arousing  its  enmity  as 
positive  precept  often  does.  There  the  sphit,  in  its 
childish  simplicity,  is  made  familiar  with  the  oft  for- 
gotten truths  of  human  accountability  and  depend- 
ence, without  which  knowledge  it  dooms  itself  to 
perpetual  aberration. 

There  is  the  law  of  association,*  which  embalms 
the  scenes  and  events  of  early  life  in  vivid  recollec- 
tion. It  unites  one  part  of  human  experience  to 
another,  so  that  the  recollection  of  the  one  suggests 
the  other.  The  old  oak  tree  on  yonder  plat  of  green, 
beneath  whose  shade  childhood  and  youth  feUow- 
shipped  in  the  largest  liberty,  is  the  centre  of  a thou- 
sand bright  remembrances,  fi'esh  as  of  yesterday’s 
occun-ence.  The  play-ground,  the  school-house,  the 

*For  tke  operation  of  this  Law  in  another  particular — in 
the  formation  of  character,  sec  Chapter  12. 


180 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


lake,  the  bucket,  the  grove,  the  orchard,  all  are  sug- 
gestive of  numerous  tragedies  and  comedies  enacted 
there.  This  law  of  the  mind  makes  these  early  inci- 
dents a part  of  manhood’s  experience,  and  suffers 
them  not  to  perish.  In  like  manner  it  spares  from 
oblivion  the  sacred  altar,  where  the  father  bowed  in 
prayer,  and  around  which  the  children  gathered  with 
becoming  solemnity.  It  renders  it  impossible  to  for- 
get the  family  devotions,  even  in  the  remote  period, 
and  amid  the  infirmities,  of  age.  The  altar  has  a 
living  history  all  the  way  along  through  life.  Hence, 
we  meet  with  the  aged,  who  revert  ^^■ith  pleasing 
interest  to  the  influence  of  family  prayer  upon  their 
childhood  and  youth.  It  is  one  of  the  most  vivid 
and  delightful  reminiscences  of  their  waning  hfe. 
Says  a man  of  prayer,  now  ministering  with  holy 
hands  at  the  altar  of  God,  “ My  heart  turns  to  the 
family  altar,  where  first  I knelt  by  a mother’s  side, 
and  a father  hfted  his  voice  in  supplication.  Im- 
pressions were  then  made,  which  time  has  never 
effaced.  With  the  first  hour  of  waking,  and  the  last 
hour  before  repose,  the  breath  of  prayer  mingled. 
It  aiTested  our  youthful  feet  at  the  opening  of  each 
day,  and  lingered  on  our  ear,  as  we  laid  our  heads 
on  the  pillow.  Like  the  stfil,  calm  twilight,  it  blessed 
the  dawm  and  close  of  the  day.” 

This  law  may  be  as  effectual  to  cause  the  family 
altar  to  live  m the  recollections,  as  it  is  to  render  the 
associations  of  the  Lord’s  prayer  undying.  The 
latter  often  awakens  pleasant  associations  among 
the  memories  of  the  aged  followers  of  Christ.  Far 
back,  in  the  history  of  life,  beyond  the  nights  of  care, 
and  a “ sea  of  trouble,”  it  shines  as  a gem  to  charm 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


181 


them  back  to  childhood.  It  is  one  of  the  bright 
memories  of  home  and  youth,  no  less  than  the  fields 
where  they  roamed,  and  the  woods  where  they 
sported.  It  mingles  with  the  remembrance  of  a 
godly  parent,  who  taught  them  to  repeat  it  when 
first  their  infant  lips  began  to  articulate.  Month 
after  month,  with  the  shadows  of  evening,  it  was  the 
good-night  lesson  that  responded  to  the  wishes  of 
parental  love.  Other  scenes  of  life’s  morning  may 
have  been  forgotten,  “ nor  left  a trace  behind,”  while 
this  lives  on  amid  the  recollections  of  age.  The 
Lord’s  prayer,  and  parental  fidelity,  are  the  wedded 
memories  that  descend  with  many  believers  to  the 
grave.  That  man  of  fame,  John  Randolph,  was 
heard  to  say  that  he  should  have  been  an  atheist, 
but  for  the  tender  remembrance  of  that  scene,  where 
a pious  mother  bade  him  kneel  by  her  side,  and, 
taking  his  little  hands  in  hers,  taught  him  to  say, 
“ Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven.”  Equally  salu- 
tary may  be  the  influence  of  the  family  altar. 

Dr.  Scott,  the  Commentator,  lived  to  see  his  nu- 
merous family  of  children  professedly  pious,  and  he 
declared  it  to  be  the  fruit  of  his  family  devotions. 
“ I look  back,”  said  he,  a short  time  before  his  death, 
‘‘  upon  my  conduct  in  this  respect  with  peculiar  grat- 
itude, as  one  grand  means  of  my  uncommon  meas- 
ure of  domestic  comfort,  and  of  bringing  down  upon 
my  children  the  blessings  which  God  has  been 
pleased  to  bestow  upon  them.” 

We  have  spoken  of  the  distinguished  Cartha- 
ginian, who  made  a warrior,  if  not  a pati’iot,  of  his 
son,  by  leading  him  to  the  altar  of  his  worshipped 
deity.  And  we  easily  appreciate  how"  it  is  that  the 

16 


182 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


household  altar  may  contribute  to  inspire  a love  of 
country  in  the  youthful  breast.  When  the  devoted 
father  lifts  his  daily  supplications  in  behalf  of  his 
beloved  land,  for  her  rulers,  her  institutions,  her  peace 
and  the  ark  of  her  hopes,  his  deep  fervor  proclaiming 
the  strength  of  its  hold  upon  his  affections,  the  lis- 
tening youth  cannot  fail  to  catch  some  of  the  patri- 
otic spirit  that  bursts  forth  from  the  depths  of  the 
praying  soul.  He  learns  to  love  the  land  for  which 
a parent  so  earnestly  supplicates  the  blessing  of  God 
He  feels  that  it  must  have  a claim  upon  his  attach- 
ment, if  it  is  worthy  the  notice  and  interposition  of 
Jehovah.  He  associates  its  interests  and  destiny 
with  the  care  and  guardianship  of  God,  for  which  a 
parent’s  prayer  ascends.  So  that  Prayer  in  the 
Family  may  have  somewhat  to  do  with  fidelity  to 
the  State. 

Family  prayer  exerts  an  influence  upon  the  church. 
Those  professors  of  religion  who  are  neglectful  of 
this  duty  will  usually  be  found  more  or  less  regard- 
less of  the  ordinary  means  of  grace.  They  are  more 
likely  to  absent  themselves  from  the  place  of  social 
prayer,  and  stupefy  the  conscience  by  opiates  of 
mere  plausible  excuses.  And  they  who  perform 
this  duty  coldly,  with  “ half  a heart,”  making  the 
exercise  formal  and  bm-densome,  are  usually  num- 
bered with  the  dumb  and  inefficient  of  the  church. 
There  is  such  a vital  connection  between  the  altar 
at  home  and  the  altar  in  the  church.  If  the  fire 
burns  brightly  upon  the  former,  it  will  upon  the 
latter.*  If  there  is  faith,  fervor,  and  earnestness 

* That  secret  prayer  is  tlie  life  of  all  Christian  duties  is  not 
denied.  We  simply  say,  that  whoever  is  faithful  in  the  observ- 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR, 


183 


with  the  first,  there  is  also  with  the  last.  Hence  a 
saint’s  activity  in  the  church  is  proportioned  to  the 
interest  with  which  his  family  altar  is  sustained. 
Religion  will  thrive  or  languish  in  the  church  ac- 
cording as  it  has  a living  or  dying  existence  in  the 
family. 

There,  too,  the  church  is  dear  to  every  one  of  its 
praying  members.  Her  interests  are  remembered  at 
numerous  altars  in  every  village,  as  often  as  the 
household  are  gathered  for  devotional  exercises. 
From  a hundred  firesides,  possibly,  in  every  thriving 
Christian  community,  the  voice  of  supplication  is 
ascending  in  behalf  of  the  blood-bought  church,  at 
the  advent  and  close  of  day.  This  agency  is  not 
employed  in  vain.  “ For  every  one  that  asketh 
receiveth ; and  he  that  seeketh  findeth  ; and  to  him 
that  knockeih  it  shall  be  opened.”  The  suppliant 
may  prevail  as  surely  at  the  home-altar  as  at  the 
church-altar.  If  he  may  be  as  mighty  in  prayer  as 
Jacob  in  one  place,  then  he  may  be  in  the  other.  So 
that  the  church  has  a glorious  auxiliary  in  the  family 
worship  which  is  observed  throughout  Christendom. 
It  is  one  of  her  strong  dependencies,  — a mighty 
weapon  of  her  spiritual  warfare. 

The  influence  of  the  family  altar  is  blessed  in 
affliction.  When  the  heathen  are  surprised  by  sad 
intelligence,  they  wring  their  hands,  tear  their  dishev- 
elled hair,  cast  ashes  upon  their  heads,  and  fill  the 
air  with  their  lopd  laments.  Often  the  unbeliever, 
in  this  Christian  land,  is  inconsolable  under  the 
burden  of  his  grief,  and  harasses  his  mind  with  hard 

ance  of  family  devotion,  without  any  reference  to  the  cause,  will 
be  found  active  in  the  church. 


184 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


thoughts  concerning  “ the  divinity  which  shapes  his 
end.”  But  the  humble  Christian  bows  in  sweet  sub- 
mission to  the  bereaving  Providence,  and,  drawing 
nearer  to  the  hand  which  holds  the  rod,  cries  aloud, 
“ The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ; 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.”  He  repairs  for 
consolation  to  the  mercy-seat,  — 

“ And  seeks  relief  in  prayer.” 

Happy  retreat  for  the  afflicted  household  is  the  altar 
of  prayer ! The  distressed  and  sorrowing  spirit  is 
there  soothed  by  the  silent  influences  that  are  wafted 
from  the  presence  of  God!  The  deep  wounds  are 
healed  by  the  oil  of  grace,  and  the  keen  anguish  is 
mollified  by  the  balm  of  Gilead ! 

The  minister  of  Christ,  to  whom  reference  has 
already  been  made,  gives  us  the  following  chapter  of 
his  experience  upon  this  subject.  “ Away  from 
home,  I was  suddenly,  unexpectedly,  called  by  an 
overwhelming  calamity.  Late  in  the  evening  I 
arrived  at  the  mansion,  and  found  the  household 
in  silent,  unutterable  grief.  Without  a word  we 
pressed  each  other’s  hand,  and  sat  dowu  and  wept. 
Oh ! the  agony  of  that  midnight  hour ! But  father 
speaks  ; oh ! how  it  reminded  me  of  the  morning  of 

my  first  sorrow.  “ E , we  have  had  prayers,  but 

now  you  have  come,  we  wiU  pray  again  before  we 
go  to  bed.”  We  knelt,  and  amid  breaking  hearts, 
the  voice  of  prayer  went  up.  It  soothed,  calmed 
and  refreshed  us.  It  was  as  the  cooling  dew  on  the 
parched  plain.  I looked  on  my  father  ■with  deeper 
affection,  that  he  knew  so  well  how  to  lead  us  to  the 
fountain  of  consolation.  It  retived  and  strengthened 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


185 


all  my  former  impressions  of  the  worth  of  prayer, 
and  the  value  of  the  household  altar.  In  the  sorrow 
which  darkened  my  early  home,  I was  led  to  the 
Lord  for  grace  and  strength ; and,  in  the  trials  of 
later  days,  I have  abundant  occasion  to  bless  him 
for  being  thus  early  taught  where  to  find  the  healing 
balm.” 

Such  examples  as  the  following  exhibit  the  influ- 
ence  of  family  prayer. 

A distinguished  merchant  relates,  that  when  he 
commenced  business  for  himself,  he  persevered  for  a 
long  time  in  a conscientious  observance  of  family 
devotions.  Every  member  of  his  household  was  re- 
quired to  be  present,  clerks,  apprentices,  servants, 
and  aU.  So  long  as  he  continued  thus  faithful, 
God  blest  him  temporally  and  spiritually.  At 
length,  however,  his  business  increased  to  such  a 
degree,  and  his  heart  was  so  absorbed  in  accumulat- 
ing wealth,  that  he  excused  his  apprentices  from  the 
morning  exercises  in  order  to  save  their  time.  Not 
long  after,  he  persuaded  himself  that  the  successful 
prosecution  of  his  business  demanded  that  he  should 
make  the  morning  prayer  with  his  wife  suffice  for 
the  day.  Thus,  household  prayer  was  forsaken,  and 
for  a series  of  years  the  family  were  not  gathered 
around  the  altar. 

One  day,  this  unfaithful  Christian  and  parent  re- 
ceived a letter  from  a young  man  who  was  his  ap- 
prentice, when  he  was  accustomed  to  maintain  family 
devotions  as  a duty.  Not  supposing  that  the  family 
altar  was  forsaken,  the  young  man  wrote  as  follows. 
“ O,  my  dear  master,  never,  never  shall  I be  able 
sufficiently  to  thank  you  for  the  precious  privilege, 
16* 


186 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


with  which  you  indulged  me  in  your  family  devo- 
tions ! O sir,  eternity  will  be  too  short  to  praise  my 
God  for  what  I learned  there.  It  was  there  I first 
beheld  my  lost  and  wretched  state  as  a sinner ; it 
was  there  that  I first  knew  the  w’ay  of  salvation  ; 
and  there  that  I first  experienced  the  preciousness  of 
Christ  in  me,  the  hope  of  glory ! O sir,  permit  me 
to  say,  never,  never  neglect  those  precious  engage- 
ments ; you  have  yet  a family  and  more  apprentices, 
may  your  house  be  the  budhplace  of  their  souls ! ” 
The  merchant  adds,  “ I could  read  no  further ; every 
line  flashed  condemnation  in  my  face.  I trembled, 
I shuddered,  I was  alarmed  lest  the  blood  of  my 
childi-en  and  apprentices  should  be  demanded  at  my 
soul-murdering  hands.  ...  I immediatety  flew  to 
my  family,  presented  them  before  the  Lord,  and  from 
that  day  to  the  present  I have  been  faithful,  and  am 
determined  that  whenever  my  business  becomes  so 
large  as  to  interrupt  family  prayer,  I ^\^ll  give  up  the 
superfluous  part  of  my  business,  and  retain  my  de- 
votions.” 

The  Rev.  James  Hamilton  writes,  “ Some  years 
ago,  an  Irish  wanderer,  his  wife,  and  his  sister,  asked 
a night’s  shelter  in  the  cabin  of  a pious  schoolmaster. 
With  the  characteristic  hospitality  of  his  nation,  the 
schoolmaster  made  them  welcome.  It  was  the  hour 
of  evening  worslup,  and  when  the  strangers  were 
seated,  he  began  by  reading  slowly  and  solemnly  the 
second  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians.  The 
young  man  sat  astonished.  The  expressions  ‘ dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,’  ‘ children  of  ^\T:ath,’  ‘ walk- 
ing after  the  course  of  this  world,’  were  new  to  him. 
He  sought  an  explanation.  He  was  told  that  this  is 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


187 


God’s  account  of  the  state  of  man  by  nature.  He 
felt  that  it  was  exactly  his  own  state.  ‘ In  this  way 
I have  walked  from  my  childhood.  In  the  service 
of  the  god  of  this  world  we  have  come  to  your 
house,’  He  was  on  the  way  to  a fair,  where  he  in- 
tended to  pass  a quantity  of  counterfeit  money. 
But  God’s  word  had  found  him  out.  He  produced 
his  store  of  coin,  and  begged  his  host  to  cast  it  into 
the  fire,  and  asked  anxiously  if  he  could  not  obtain 
the  word  of  God  for  himself.  His  request  was  com- 
plied with,  and  next  morning,  with  the  new  treasure, 
the  party,  who  had  now  no  errand  to  the  fair,  re- 
turned to  their  own  home.  Perhaps,  by  this  time, 
the  pious  schoolmaster  has  met  his  guest  within  the 
gates  of  the  city,  outside  of  which  are  thieves  and 
‘ whatsoever  maketh  a lie.’  ” 

The  son  of  a venerable  living  clergyman  of  New 
England,  accustomed,  of  com'se,  to  hear  the  morn- 
ing and  evening  prayer  in  the  family  from  his  child- 
hood, left  his  home,  when  about  twenty  years  of  age, 
for  a city  residence.  He  was  amiable  and  lovely  as 
the  “ young  man  ” in  the  gospel,  and  like  him,  lacked 
only  “ one  thing.”  His  new  home  was  in  a prayerless 
family.  To  him  it  was  a new  and  sti’ange  thing  to 
witness  a family  separating  for  their  business  in  the 
morning,  and  retiring  at  night,  with  no  recognition 
of  the  God  in  whom  they  “ lived,  and  moved,  and  had 
their  being.”  His  thoughts  ran  back  to  his  father’s 
household  and  its  sacred  altar.  Though  not  a 
Christian,  its  absence  made  it  precious.  Thought 
crowded  upon  thought.  Inquiry  pressed  inquiry. 
Conviction  succeeded  conviction.  His  heart  bowed 
to  Christ.  The  strange  absence  of  the  family  altar. 


188 


LIFE  AT  THE  PIEESIDE. 


contrasted  with  his  early  home,  brought  him  to  the 
Lord.  He  lived  as  a Christian  ought,  died  at 
twenty-six  in  the  triumphs  of  faith,  and  is  now  in 
heaven. 

Such  facts  might  be  multiplied  without  hmit, 
showing  the  influence  of  prayer  in  the  family  in 
yet  other  respects.  The  above  may  suffice  for  illus- 
tration. 

The  divine  blessing,  evidently,  does  not  always 
abide  upon  families  observant  of  this  rite.  The  fact 
does  not  militate  against  the  efficacy  of  family  devo- 
tions ; for  the  reason  of  the  failure  lies  in  the  spirit 
with  which  the  exercise  is  conducted,  or  in  the  dis- 
crepancy between  prayer  and  practice.  Those  sup- 
plicating parents  who  see  no  fruit  of  this  daily  ex- 
ercise of  prayer  in  the  family  may  belong  to  that 
class  whom  James  addressed  thus,  “ Ye  ask,  and 
receive  not,  because  ye  ask  amiss.”  Error  in  spirit 
or  matter  renders  prayer  abortive.  Or,  their  prac- 
tice may  give  the  lie  to  prayer.  The  want  of 
harmony  between  the  language  and  spirit  of  sup- 
plication, and  the  actual  demeanor,  may  nullify 
otherwise  Christian  influence,  and  make  the  family 
altar  a “ hissing  and  byword  ” with  the  ungodly 
members  of  the  household.  Prayer  and  practice  are 
the  twm  halves  of  a pure  Christian  life.  Their  union 
only  makes  a whole.  If  the  father  prays  for  benev- 
olence, and  practises  covetousness  before  his  chil- 
dren ; if  he  asks  God  for  tenderness  of  heart,  and 
indulges  in  frequent  outbursts  of  anger ; if  he  sup- 
pficates  that  he  may  become  eminent  for  heavenly- 
mindedness, and  yet  is  content  to  remain  absorbed 
in  worldliness ; if  he  asks  that  his  children  may  walk 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


189 


in  a path  of  consistency,  in  which  he  does  not  walk 
himself ; if  he  prays  that  they  may  not  set  their 
hearts  upon  honor  or  riches,  when  he  himself  is 
plainly  influenced  by  these  transient  acquisitions ; if 
at  the  mercy-seat  alone  he  seems  to  feel  that  his 
children  have  souls,  and  elsewhere  that  they  have 
bodies  only ; if,  in  any  manner  and  degree,  his  con- 
duct in  the  world  belies  his  sincerity  at  the  altar ; 
then,  it  is  not  strange  that  no  divine  blessing  rests 
upon  his  household.  Nor  would  it  be  a matter  of 
surprise,  if  sons  and  daughters  who  have  under- 
standing enough  to  perceive,  and  heart  enough  to 
feel,  that  “ consistency  is  a jewel,”  should  nurture  a 
singular  dislike  of  holy  things,  even  with  the  noise 
of  a father’s  wordy  prayers  fading  upon  their  ears. 
It  might  be  added  to  the  above,  that  the  success  of 
family  prayer  is  hindered  when  one  of  the  “ United 
head  ” is  unconverted.  A harp  with  a broken 
string,  and  an  organ  with  a dumb  note,  do  not 
pour  forth  their  fuU  strength  in  volume  and  melody. 
Neither  can  a heart  become  strong  in  the  Lord,  when 
its  “ other  self  ” feels  no  spiritual  sympathy.  Some 
one  has  said,  that  one  of  a wedded  pair  striving  to 
advance  heavenward  by  this  family  rite,  while  the 
other  is  world-loving,  is  “ like  a bird  trying  to  fly  to- 
ward heaven  with  one  broken  wing.” 

Family  prayer  is  much  neglected  by  Christian 
people.  This  does  not  arise  from  cherishing  the 
sentiment  that  it  is  worthless.  Other  causes,  which 
we  shall  briefly  consider,  operate  to  bring  about  such 
a result. 

There  is  the  pressure  of  business,  — no  time  to 
seek  the  blessing  of  God  on  the  avocations  of  the 


190 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


day.  The  god  of  this  world  is  served  with  such 
fidelity  that  he  receives  the  whole  time,  except  what 
is  absolutely  demanded  for  eating  and  sleeping. 
WhUe  professing  to  believe  that  success  cannot  crown 
efforts  in  business,  or  prosperity  attend  the  house- 
hold, without  the  blessing  of  God,  some  neglect  to 
seek  it.  How  grossly  inconsistent ! The  husband- 
man, who  expects  to  reap  a harvest  without  rain  or 
sunshine ; the  mariner,  who  attempts  to  sail  ^Gthout 
a favoring  wind  ; both  acting  against  their  professed 
convictions,  are  not  more  inconsistent  than  is  the 
Christian,  professing  to  believe,  that  without  God  he 
“ can  do  nothing,”  yet  acting  as  independently  of 
him  in  the  duties  and  labors  of  the  day  as  if  he  did 
not  exist.  No  time  for  family  prayer!  Was  not 
time  given  because  eternity  is  coming  ? Is  time  for 
worldly  gains  more  valuable  to  the  family,  than  for 
moral  and  spiritual  improvement  ? Is  time  for  earth 
and  hell  more  precious  than  time  for  hohness  and 
heaven  ? No  time  for  family  prayer,  wiU  be  a mis- 
erable excuse  at  the  judgment-seat. 

There  is  also  fear  — the  fear  of  man  — a slawsh 
natural  fear.  It  is  often  a great  cross  for  Christians 
to  commence  the  duty  of  family  devotions.  For 
weeks  and  months  the  duty  is  neglected  amid  the 
reproaches  of  conscience.  For  it  is  very  difficult,  if 
not  impossible,  for  Christian  parents  to  persuade 
themselves  that  no  obligation  in  this  respect  is  im- 
posed upon  them.  They  usually  feel,  that  morning 
and  evening  they  ought  to  assemble  their  families 
and  commend  them  to  a covenant-keeping  God. 
But  tliis  natural  timidity  conquers,  and  the  altar  is 
not  reared.  This  cause  of  the  neglect  of  family 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAK. 


• 191 


prayer  deserves  to  be  treated  with  less  severity  than 
the  one  named  above.  The  fear  of  man  has  a place 
more  or  less  prominent  in  the  experience  of  every 
Christian,  and  many  a good  man  has  not  the  forti- 
tude to  lead  his  household  in  prayer.  It  is  much  to 
be  regretted,  if  it  is  not  to  be  rebuked.  The  neg- 
lecter  is  the  loser.  His  family  share  the  detriment 
with  him.  After  all  the  palliations  we  can  muster, 
such  heads  of  households  may  ponder,  to  their  spirit- 
ual profit,  the  following  inspired  texts  : “ There  is  no 
fear  in  love  ; but  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear ; be- 
cause fear  hath  torment.  He  that  feareth  is  not 
made  perfect  in  love.”  “ And  Saul  said  unto  Samuel, 
I have  sinned ; for  I have  transgressed  the  command- 
ment of  the  Lord,  and  thy  words  ; because  I feared 
the  people,  and  obeyed  their  voice.” 

Others  still  excuse  themselves  from  this  duty,  on 
the  ground  of  being  unlettered,  destitute  of  a pecul- 
iar gift  for  prayer.  The  excuse  implies  that  erudi- 
tion, eloquence,  or  some  other  kindred  endowment 
or  acquisition  is  necessary  to  acceptable  prayer.  If 
Christians  pray  to  be  heard  of  men,  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  be  both  erudite  and  eloquent.  But  a “ poor, 
stammering  tongue  ” may  utter  a petition  more 
beautiful  to  God  than  literature  or  learning  can 
dictate.  He,  who  is  learned  enough  to  ask  a bless- 
ing of  a friend,  is  sufficiently  gifted  to  ask  a blessing 
of  God.  The  child  who  refuses  to  seek  the  counsel 
and  guidance  of  a father,  in  the  presence  of  others, 
because  he  lacks  learning,  is  not  more  singular 
thah  the  spiritual  child,  who  for  a similar  reason 
excuses  himself  from  the  duty  of  family  devotions. 

Reader ! Perhaps  your  name  is  enrolled  among 


192 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


the  people  of  God,  and  yet  the  voice  of  family  prayer 
is  not  heard  in  your  habitation.  Children  are  grow- 
ing up  around  you,  knowing  that  your  name  is  on 
the  records  of  the  church,  and  yet  beholding  there  is 
no  recognition  of  the  household  God  in  their  “ o-wm 
sweet  home.”  To  them,  religion  is  a matter  of 
inferior  consequence,  since  it  has  no  distinguishing 
“ sign  or  seal  ” in  the  family.  There  is  little  to 
distinguish  their  father’s  household  from  those  of 
their  godless  neighbor’s,  now  that  the  family  altar  is 
unknown.  There  is  little,  probably,  when  the  voice 
of  supplication  is  not  heard,  to  impress  them  with 
the  important  truths  of  dependence  upon  God,  and 
an  eternity  of  bliss  or  woe.  Fast  as  time  in  its 
rapid  flight  can  carry  them,  they  are  hurrying  to  the 
judgment-seat,  and  will  soon  be  there.  Every  mo- 
ment is  pregnant  with  the  decisions  of  life  or  death. 
Every  influence,  though  silent  and  mild  as  an  even- 
ing zephyr,  contributes  to  turn  the  scale  of  immortal 
destiny.  The  voice  of  prayer  will  increase  the  prob- 
ability of  the  salvation  of  these  perishing  soifls.  It 
may  add  only  a small  fraction  to  that  saving  in- 
fluence wliich  brings  them  to  Christ ; but'that  fraction, 
in  the  salvation  of  a deathless  spirit,  who  can  esti- 
mate? Thus,  the  highest  motive  to  be  conceived 
m’ges  you  to  rear  an  altar  to  the  Lord  in  your  family. 
All  that  is  haUovs^ed  in  hope ; all  that  is  precious 
in  a blissful  immortality ; aU  that  is  terrible  in  a 
hopeless  hell;  demands  that  the  sound  of  prayer 
should  fall  daily  upon  the  ears  of  your  unconverted 
children. 

Perhaps  this  volume  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  an 
unbeliever,  whose  home,  of  course,  is  destitute  of  the 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


193 


altar.  His  children  may  say,  with  the  innocent  child 
who  heard  the  voice  of  prayer  in  a Christian  family, 
“we  have  no  God  at  papa’s  house.”  We  are  told 
that  in  Greenland,  when  a stranger  knocks  at  a door, 
he  inquires,  “ Is  God  in  this  house  ? ” He  presumes 
to  enter  only  when  the  answer  is  in  the  affirmative. 

Alas ! from  how  many  dwellings  would  strangers 
turn  away  in  every  village  of  our  land,  were  this  now 
to  decide  their  entrance ! No  God  here ! From 
how  many  habitations  would  this  response  be  given 
to  the  inquiry,  “ Is  God  in  this  house  ? ” Reader, 
you  know  not  how  great  is  the  loss  which  you  sus- 
tain, in  being  morally  unfit  to  pray  in  your  family. 
It  is  of  more  value  than  vessels  of  gold  and  silver,  to 
have  God  in  your  home.  He  is  a better  guest  to 
honor  than  a president  or  king.  He  can  bless  be- 
yond aU  the  potentates  and  powers  of  earth.  When 
a family  has  lost  its  earthly  riches,  and  experiences 
the  squalid  poverty  of  the  world,  without  a title  to 
the  lowest  niche  in  the  temple  of  fame,  it  is  more 
prosperous,  with  God  for  its  guest,  than  the  pam- 
pered family  of  Caesar. 

Reader,  perhaps  you  are  some  unconverted  son  oi 
daughter,  accustomed  from  childhood  to  listen  to  a 
parent’s  voice  in  family  devotions.  Year  after  year 
you  have  been  borne  in  the  arms  of  prayer  to  the 
mercy-seat ; you  have  seen  the  struggles  of  a father’s 
heart  for  the  salvation  of  his  household ; and  yet 
are  unconverted ! You  are  a sinner  against  the 
weightiest  obligations ; for  every  breath  of  prayer 
at  the  family  altar  has  increased  your  obligation  to 
love  and  serve  the  Lord.  All  the  associations  and 
17 


194 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


influences  of  that  houshold  rite  have  been  as  so 
many  whisperings  of  the  Spirit,  exhorting  you  to  be 
reconciled  to  God.  Inasmuch  as  you  have  resisted 
more  influences  to  remain  in  sin  than  the  children  of 
prayerless  parents,  so  you  are  less  free  than  they 
from  guilt  before  God.  Your  praying  parent  may  be 
slumbering  with  the  dead.  Those  lips  can  no  longer 
supplicate  for  you.  Those  hands  can  no  longer 
minister  to  your  happiness.  That  heart,  which 
throbbed  with  delight  at  the  sound  of  yom-  young 
footstep,  has  ceased  to  beat.  Those  eyes,  which  often 
flowed  with  tears  of  anxiety  for  your  conversion,  are 
closed  till  the  trump  of  the  archangel  shall  sound. 
But  the  obligations,  which  the  prayers  of  that  pious 
father  have  imposed  upon  you,  wdU  never  die.  They 
win  live  on  amid  the  chequered  scenes  of  life  'udth 
undiminished  force.  They  will  abide  upon  you  in 
every  sphere  of  existence,  at  home  and  abroad,  in 
the  house  and  by  the  way,  deepening  and  spreading 
as  time  advances,  to  yonr  dying  day.  They  will  go 
with  you  to  the  bar  of  God,  to  mingle  wdth  the  tones 
of  his  voice  who  pronounces  the  sentence  of  final 
condemnation  or  the  welcome  plaudit. 

The  reflections  of  pious  parents  who  have  been 
faithful  in  the  observance  of  this  family  rite,  must 
be  pleasant,  when  their  children  leave  home  to  en- 
gage in  the  pursuits  of  life.  Providence  sooner  or 
later  breaks  up  these  household  connections,  so  far  as 
to  scatter  the  children  abroad  upon  the  various  errands 
of  worldly  duty.  Their  hearts  may  be  unrenewed ; 
but  they  go  forth  with  aU  the  influences  of  prayer, 
which  God  can  make  powerful  to  reform,  impress- 


THE  FAMILY  ALTAR. 


195 


ing  their  hearts.  They  may  mingle  in  socialities 
and  friendships  where  sin  abounds,  and  temptation 
is  fearful  in  power  ; but  the  sound  of  a father’s  voice 
in  supplication  has  not  yet  died  away  upon  the  ear. 
One  may  toil  in  the  marts  of  trade,  in  the  midst  of 
fraud  and  chicanery ; is  not  hope  inspired  by  the 
thought,  that  he  was  reared  where  the  great  God 
had  an  altar  ? Another  may  move  in  a circle,  where 
the  arts  of  fashion  and  pleasmu  tend  to  allure  from 
the  path  of  virtue  ; will  there  be  no  power  in  the  rec- 
ollection of  a beloved  parent  wrestling  with  God 
for  his  moral  safety  ? And  yet  another  may  make 
the  home  of  his  manhood  upon  the  seas,  exposed  to 
the  moral  perils  of  the  sailor’s  life,  corrupt  associa- 
tions on  shipboard,  and  vices  of  every  kind  in  port ; 
what  parent  would  not  rejoice  to  have  his  son  go  to 
an  ocean  life  with  the  memory  of  family  prayer  abid- 
ing in  his  heart  ? 

These  thoughts  run  onward  to  the  future.  The 
time  will  come,  according  to  the  “ sure  word  of 
prophecy,”  when  the  knowledge  of  God  will  fill 
the  earth,  and  family  altars  will  be  reared  in  the 
habitations  of  every  tribe  and  people.  The  voice  of 
prayer  may  not  be  heard  in  every  dwelling ; but  the 
habitations  unhallowed  by  its  utterance  wiU  consti- 
tute the 'exceptions  to  a general  rule.  Language 
cannot  describe  nor  imagination  conceive  the  gran- 
deur of  that  scene,  when  families  dwelling  in  every 
clime,  and  voyaging  on  every  sea,  will  bow  as  sup- 
pliants to  a common  Father ; — when,  instead  of 
the  strife  and  feuds,  the  heart-burnings  and  aliena- 
tions, the  vices  and  frivolities,  the  thoughtlessness 


196 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


and  gross  sins  of  households,  they  shall  gather  in 
the  exercise  of  love  and  gratitude  around  the  altar, 
and  there  shall  be  one  world-wide,  universal  con- 
cert of  prayer,  “ Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,” 
as  if  the  earth  were  a single  dwelling,  and  mankind 
a single  family,  and  God  the  glorious  Head. 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


“ There  is  a Reaper  whose  name  is  death, 

And,  with  his  sickle  keen, 

-He  i-eaps  the  bearded  grain  at  a breath. 

And  flowers  that  grow  between.” 

Longfeli.ow. 

“ Hark ! they  whisper  — angels  say, 

Sister  spirit,  come  away.”  Pope. 


Sad  are  the  associations  as  we  stand  within  a 
dwelling  where  lie  the  dead!  The  once  unbroken 
circle  has  now  a vacant  chair,  and  an  awful  void. 
The  tomb-like  silence,  that  reigns  through  each 
apartment,  tells  that  a solemn  crisis  is  reached  in 
the  household  history.  Earthly  ties  are  severed,  and 
“ love  hes  bleeding.”  The  room  in  which  the  sacred 
relics  repose,  awaiting  the  hour  of  burial,  is  a kind 
of  “ Holy  of  Holies.”  Though  the  spirit  is  not  there, 
yet  the  human  form  in  which  it  tabernacled  is  dear, 
even  when  dissolving  back  to  dust.  Softly  we  tread, 
as  if  our  step  would  disturb  the  peaceful  sleeper ; 
and  long  after  the  remains  have  been  laid  in  the 
“ narrow  house,”  the  apartment  is  hallowed  by  the 
vivid  associations  that  come  thronging  there.  This 
is  emphatically  a family  scene.  It  will  occur  in 

17  ■*  (1^'') 


198 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


every  household.  It  will  destroy  these  numerous 
intimacies  ; for  “ the  land  shall  mourn,  every  family 
apart.” 

Few  realize  the  dread  imcertainty  of  life.  Even 
the  lamented  Heber,  who  wrote  the  beautiful  lines,  — 

“ Death  rides  on  every  passing  breeze,  — 

And  lurks  in  every  flower  ; 

. Each  season  has  its  own  disease, 

- Its  peril  every  hour, ” 

did  not  realize  that  he  himself  should  illustrate  their 
fearful  import.  Yet  he  entered  the  bath-room  at 
Trichonopoly  in  perfect  health,  and  was  brought  out 
a lifeless  corpse.  By  a tie  so  frail  are  the  joys  of  the 
family  held  on  earth.  It  is  true  that  “ death  rides 
on  every  passing  breeze.”  A needle  destroyed  Lucia, 
the  sister  of  Aurelius,  while  playing  with  her  little 
son.  A grape  choked  Anacreon,  the  sweet  bard  of 
ancient  Ionia.  A hair  terminated  the  life  of  Fab- 
ius,  once  a Roman  consul.  A fly  kflled  Pope  Adri- 
an IV.  It  is  not  alone  in  the  wild  tornado,  or  the 
raging  pestilence,  that  death  sunders  the  ties  of  kin- 
dred. It  is  confined  to  no  boundaides  or  seasons. 

“ Leaves  have  their  times  to  fall. 

And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  north- wind’s  breath. 

And  stars  to  set  — but  all, 

Thou  hast  aU  seasons  for  thine  own,  O death ! ” * 

The  emperor  Mervanes  had  this  motto  engraved 
upon  his  seal : “ Remember  thou  must  die  ! ” God 
engraves  the  warning  upon  the  foreheads  of  dying 
men.  Philip,  king  of  INIacedon,  ordered  his  page  to 


* Mrs.  Hemans. 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


199 


address  him  every  morning  in  these  words : “ Re- 
member, O king,  thou  art  mortal ! ” God  addresses 
not  only  kings,  but  every  member  of  every  family  ; 
and  not  only  every  morning,  but  every  evening  and 
every  hour,  “ Ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the 
morrow.” 

The  history  of  families  speaks  of  little  else  than 
death.  One  fourth  of  aU  the  members  die  before  they 
pass  the  age  of  a single  year,  and  only  two  fifths  attain 
six  years  of  age.  Thirty  millions  of  our  race  die  an- 
nually ; about  eighty  thousand  daily  more  than  three 
thousand  hourly ; more  than  fifty  every  minute ; al- 
most one  every  second.  What  havoc  is  here  in  earth’s 
countless  families  ! What  disappointments,  blasted 
hopes,  and  repining  love ! While  I write,  what  sever- 
ing of  ties,  what  grief,  what  lamentation  ! The  earth 
is  little  else  than  a vast  cemetery,  and  the  sounds  that 
are  wafted  to  our  ears  are  mostly  the  voices  of  the 
dead.  For,  every  moment,  some  one  of  the  human 
family  is  consigned  to  the  dust,  and  the  knell  of  death 
mingles  its  dolorous  notes  with  the  sighing  of  the  be- 
reaved. We  wonder  not  that  the  ancient  Egyptians 
were  accustomed  to  carry  their  coffins  to  festivals,  in 
order  to  keep  reminded  of  mortality  ; nor  that  the 
Chinese  kept  them  in  their  private  dormitories. 

In  the  afflictions  of  families,  death  is  presented 
under  various  forms,  involving  much  that  is  dark 
and  incomprehensible  ; and  these  hidden  ways  of  the 
Lord  are  often  called  the  mysteries  of  Providence. 
A few  facts  wiU,  illustrate. 

In  the  land  of  Moab,  thirteen  centuries  before  the 
birth  of  Chris^ti  poor  but  pious  woman,  named 
Naomi,  took  uj^er  residence.  Driven  by  relentless 


200 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


famine,  she  came  with  her  husband  and  children 
from  Bethlehem-Judah,  — a place  distant  by  the 
space  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles,  over  a 
mountainous  region,  and  since  honored  by  the  an- 
gelic heraldry,  descending  to  announce  the  Satdour’s 
birth  to  the  watching  shepherds.  She  came  un\\’it- 
tingly  to  bury  her  husband  and  children  in  this 
heathen  country,  far  away  from  the  land  of  their 
birth,  and  the  dust  of  then  fathers.  She  came  to 
learn  a sad  lesson  of  sorrow  in  a fatherless,  husband- 
less, and  childless  home,  — to  see  whither  the  widow’s 
heart  will  turn  in  her  bereavement  and  haggard  want, 
but  to  the  widow’s  God.  What  a complication  of 
woe ! Driven  by  famine  from  her  early  home  to  a 
land  of  heathen  strangers ; bereft  of  all  her  family  in 
so  brief  a period  ; left  homeless  and  alone,  to  survive 
as  best  she  could  upon  the  scanty  fare  of  pemny ! 
Child  of  Providence!  The  hand  of  God  is  laid 
heavily  upon  thee,  and  thou  art  ready  to  exclaim, 
“ Thy  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  thy  path  in  the  great 
waters,  and  thy  footsteps  are  not  known.”  But 
thousands  live  to  keep  thee  company  in  mysteries 
like  these. 

After  a long  and  chequered  experience,  Jacob 
arrived  at  Bethel  with  his  family.  He  was  one  of 
the  faithful  few  who  hold  on  “ in  the  even  tenor  of 
then  way  ” amid  aU  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  — a man 
after  God’s  own  heart.  Scarcely  had  he  left  that 
sacred  spot,  before  Rachel,  his  -^dfe,  for  whom  he 
served  fourteen  years  in  Padan-aram,  died ; and  he 
heard  from  her  lips,  “ as  her  soul  was  in  departing,” 
the  name,  Benoni,  (the  son  of  my  sorrows,)  given  to 
her  infant  child.  None  more  than  Jacob  deserved 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


201 


the  blessing  of  an  unbroken  household.  None  more 
than  the  infant  child  needed  a mother’s  watch.  Yet 
the  family  was  broken,  and  the  child  was  made 
motherless.  How  many  families  could  Jacob  see, 
where  the  death-blow  would  have  fallen  less  heavily ! 
How  many,  from  which  the  mother  could  have  been 
removed  with  less  detriment ! Indeed,  could  he  not 
have  spared  some  other  member  of  his  own  family 
far  better  ? But  the  Lord  saith  unto  him,  “ My 
thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your 
ways  my  ways.  For  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than 
the  earth,  so  are  my  ways  higher  than  your  ways, 
and  my  thoughts  than  your  thoughts.” 

The  young  man  has  laid  his  intellect  and  his  heart 
upon  the  altar  of  God,  and  designs  to  become  a 
reaper  in  the  distant  fields  of  the  Lord,  abeady  white 
for  the  harvest.  With  unwearied  diligence  and  the 
highest  promise,  he  applies  himself  to  the  burnishing 
of  his  splendid  intellect,  and  the  cultivation  of  his 
noble  heart.  Around  him  cluster  the  brightest  hopes 
of  the  family.  But  he  dies.  The  flower  of  the 
household  garden  withers ; the  jewel  is  plucked  from 
its  crown  ; the  star  drops  from  its  firmament.  And 
yet  the  drone,  the  dissolute,  the  ignoramus,  lives  on 
in  the  same  circle,  the  object  of  daily  and  hourly 
solicitude,  the  cliild  of  many  fears  and  great  anxi- 
eties ; — lives  to  add  not  a drop  to  the  cup  of  do- 
mestic bliss,  nor  a unit  to  the  value  of  the  social 
compact,  nor  a name  to  the  roll  of  the  sacramental 
hosts ; but  possibly  to  bring  down  the  grey  hairs  of 
his  parents  in  sorrow  to  the  grave.  Mysterious 
J^rovidence ! cries  the  disappointed  mourner,  arid, 
lifting  his  eyes  to  God,  joins  with  the  weeping 


202 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


prophet,  “ Let  me  talk  with  Thee  of  thy  judgments. 
Wherefore  doth  the  way  of  the  wicked  prosper  ? ” 
and  back  the  answer  coiues,  “ be  still,  and  know  that 
I am  God.” 

The  infant  has  lived  to  utter  no  word  against  the 
truth,  nor  to  lift  its  hand  in  wilful  disobedience.  Its 
unfolding  mind  has  plotted  no  deeds  of  sin.  Its 
little  heart  has  not  ‘been  stained  by  contact  mth  a 
wicked  world.  No  passions  rankle  in  its  breast.  It 
knows  not  an  enemy  in  the  wide,  wide  world.  Its 
body  is  a beautiful  casket,  and  its  soul  a priceless 
gem.  But  the  infant  dies  ; and  the  desolate  mansion 
rings  no  more  with  its  laugh  of  gladness.  Amid 
excessive  sufferings  he  goes  down  to  the  dust,  while 
weeping  parents  and  surviving  children  gaze  in  silent 
wonder  and  awe  upon  the  mystery  of  death. 

The  gallant  steamer  * sails  from  the  busy  port. 
Warm  hearts  mingle  on  the  crowded  deck,  in  antici- 
pation of  the  annual  festivities  on  the  succeeding 
day.  Yet  a little  whde  and  many  will  be  welcomed 
to  the  home  of  their  youth  amid  tokens  of  affection 
and  hearty  congratulations.  But  suddenly  the  huge 
fabric  reels  before  the  rushing  tornado,  and  the  boil- 
ing ocean  tosses  it  as  d feather  from  billow  to  billow. 
Now  it  trembles  in  every  beam  and  timber,  and  anon 
it  dashes  upon  the  rocky  shore,  hning  it  with  the  frag- 
ments of  the  shattered  ^^^reck,  and  the  mangled  and 
dismembered  bodies  of  men  and  women.  There 
perish  the  young  and  beautiful.  There  the  husband 
and  father,  returning  after  two  years’  absence,  dies 
upon  the  very  eve  of  the  expected  meeting.  There 

* The  reader  will  recognize  the  allusion  here  to  the  Atlantic. 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


203 


the  lover,  on  his  way  to  greet  his  betrothed,  goes 
down  to  a watery  grave.  There  the  lad  of  fourteen 
is  the  only  survivor  of  an  entire  family,  left  fatherless, 
brotherless,  and  sisterless  in  a land  of  strangers. 
Hundreds  of  hearts  are  filled  with  anguish  as  the  sad 
tidings  fly  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind.  Inscrutable 
Providence ! “ O the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the 
wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God ! How  unsearchable 
are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out!  ” 
Such  are  some  of  the  forms  in  which  affliction 
comes  to  families.  Men  are  accustomed  to  call  them 
mysteries,  and  if  rightly  regarding  a mystery,  it  may 
not  be  incorrect.  Here  is  much  that  is  dark  and 
terrible  in  human  experience.  We  can  give  no 
better  explanation  than  that  of  the  speechless  lad  at 
the  deaf  and  dumb  asylum  of  London.  A clergy- 
man asked,  “ Who  made  the  world  ? ” He  took  the 
chalk  and  wrote  underneath  the  question,  “ In  the 
beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth.” 
He  then  inquired  in  a similar  manner,  “ Why  did 
Jesus  Christ  come  into  the  world  ? ” A smile  of  de- 
light and  gratitude  rested  upon  his  countenance,  as 
he  wrote,  “ This  is  a faithf^saying  and  worthy  of 
aU  acceptation,  that  Jesu?  Clpigt  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners.”  A third  question,  eminently 
adapted  to  appeal  to  his  feeflngs,  was  then  pro- 
pounded, “ Why  were  you  born  deaf  and  dumb, 
while  I can  hear  and  speak  ? ” “ Never,”  said  an 
eyewitness,  “ shall  I forget  the  look  of  holy  resig- 
nation and  chastened  sorrow  which  sat  on  his  coun- 
tenance, as  he  took  up  the  chaUc  and  wrote,  ‘ Even 
so,  Father,  for  so  it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight.’  ” It  is 


204 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


the  only  explanation  that  can  be  given  of  many  of 
the  darkest  scenes  in  our  experience. 

But  though  the  family  relation  is  subject  to  such 
irreparable  and  sudden  rupture,  the  Gospel  brings  its 
sure  and  delightful  compensation.  It  comes  not  to 
clear  away  aU  the  darkness,  nor  scatter  all  the  clouds, 
nor  solve  all  the  mysteries  ; but  to  offer  consolation, 
even  when  the  ways  of  the  Lord  are  “ past  finding 
out.”  The  Rosicrucians  sought  to  meet  the  stern 
necessity  of  death,  by  discovering  a medicine  to 
render  the  body  invulnerable  to  its  shafts,  that  man 
might  live  forever.  But  the  Gospel  offers  no  respite 
from  the  pangs  of  disease,  nor  seeks  to  elude  the 
King  of  Terrors.  It  comes  with  its  solace  to  the 
bereaved  family,  no  matter  when  or  how  death  does 
its  work.  It  makes  the  soul  joyful  even  in  tribu- 
lation. 

Before  proceeding  to  consider  some  of  the  doc- 
trines of  the  cross  which  are  adapted  to  console 
mourners,  a brief  notice  may  be  taken  of  the  manner 
in  which  Christ  treated  the  afflicted. 

Jesus  wept.  With  the  weeping  family  of  Beth- 
any he  wept.  Heartless  stoicism  teaches  that  it  is 
human  weakness  to  weep,  — that  rigid  insensibility 
to  the  loss  of  friends  is  alone  evidence  of  true  man- 
liness. It  would  have  you  “ feel  the  cold  hand  of 
death  grasping  those  warm  affections  which  are  so 
deeply  rooted  in  the  soul,  withering  them  up  and 
tearing  them  away,  yet  shed  not  a tear.”  It  would 
have  you  assume  this  attitude  of  suUen  defiance,  and 
steel  your  heart  against  what  is  deemed  the  bolt  of 
a stern  necessity.  But  this  unmans  the  man  — mi- 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


205 


humanizes  humanity  — unchristianizes  the  Christian. 
The  poet  fiill  defines  the  falling  tear,  — 

- “ ’Tis  natiire’s  mark  to  sliow  an  honest  heart  by.” 

And  Goldsri^h  penned  a still  more  expressive  line 
upon  the  same  theme, — 

“ In  all  the  silent  manliness  of  grief.” 

This  is  Christian.  This  is  nature  — human  nature, 
perfect  if  you  please,  as  in  the  sinless  but  weeping 
Christ.  It  is  like  the  spirit  of  the  gospel,  that  indul- 
ges our  weakness,  and  never  sneers  at  the  natural 
expression  of  sorrow.  Jesus  wept!  The  sacred 
sympathy  of  his  soul  burst  forth  in  a flood  of  com- 
passionate interest.  The  Son  of  God,  the  immacu- 
late Messiah,  mourns  at  the  grave  where  grieved 
affection  droops.  Surely,  then,  his  followers  may 
imitate  his  example. 

Nor  is  this  aU.  The  Christian  family  may  find 
consolation  in  the  assurance  of  Christ’s  sympathy 
for  them  in  bereavement.  The  sympathy  of  earthly 
friends  is  invaluable  in  sorrow.  The  sympathy  of 
Christ  is  far  better ; and  it  is  the  more  needful,  be- 
cause the  death  scene  imparts  new  energy  and 
strength  to  the  affections  of  the  living.  The  last 
hours  of  an  endeared  friend,  most  of  all,  inshrine  his 
name  and  virtues  in  undying  memory.  His  suffer- 
ings, his  words,  his  wants,  enlist  the  affections  with 
unusual  devotion.  Even  where  enmity  may  have 
soured  and  imbittered  them,  it  is  all  forgotten  in  the 
scene  of  sickness  and  death.  The  marble  brow,  the 
sunken  eye,  the  patient  spirit,  the  look  of  tenderness, 
the  calm  and  cheerful  mind,  the  dying  counsel,  the 
18 


206 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


last  word,  the  touching  adieu,  the  unwavering  trust, 
the  final  struggle,  are  haUow’ed  memories  to  endear 
the  dead  to  the  living.  The  spot  where  their  relics 
lie  is  “hallowed  ground.”  We  love  to  linger  there 
in  the  stfil  hour  of  twihght,  when  the  gathering  shad- 
ows of  evening  invite  to  serious  thought.  There  we 
plant  the  rose,  willow,  and  cypress.  We  fence 
around  the  square,  and  thither  conduct  our  friends, 
to  show  them  how  sacred  is  that  unconscious  dust. 
We  call  the  grave-yard,  in  which  we  guard  and  orna- 
ment the  family  inclosure,  “ God’s  Acre.”  Because 
of  this  fond  endearment,  the  sympathy  of  Christ  be- 
comes more  delightful  to  the  afflicted  Christian  fam- 
ily. The  Saviour  appears  not  as  the  champion  of  a 
heartless  philosophy  ; but  as  the  friend,  who  “ sticketh 
closer  than  a brother.” 

“ The  Lord  reigneth.”  This  is  the  first  consoling 
truth  of  the  gospel  wlfich  we  commend  to  the  af- 
flicted family.  Men  may  trifle  with  the  truth  when 
the  sun  of  prosperity  shines  ; but  the  soul  in  sorrow 
loves  to  refer  its  trials  to  an  overruling  Providence. 
The  aged  tar  may  laugh  at  the  humble  Christian’s 
prayer,  and  call  it  superstition,  when  his  vessel  glides 
smootlfly  over  the  tide  ; but  in  ■'A’ind  and  tempest  he 
appeals  to  God,  — 

“ Who  plants  his  footsteps  on  the  sea, 

And  rides  upon  the  storm.” 

Then  the  mind  rejects  the  doctrines  of  fatality  and 
chance,  and  longs  to  find  a mighty  agency,  beneath 
whose  power  “ aU  things  work  together  for  good.” 
Then  the  thought  is  delightful,  that  the  eye  of  Jeho- 
vah pierces  through  the  darkest  cloud  to  regard  the 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


207 


sparrow  in  its  fall.  It  does  not  wipe  away  a tear,  to 
know  the  nature  of  the  disease  that  invades  a family, 
and  cuts  down  a member.  But  it  does  console  to 
reflect  that  even  the  pestilence  is  under  the  control 
of  Infinite  wisdom  and  power.  It  is  this  precious 
docti’ine  of  Providence  which  gives  new  character 
to  life.  “ It  scans  the  whole  range  of  events,  from 
the  greatest  to  the  least,  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  time,  and  through  aU  the  limitless  reahns  of 
the  divine  economy ! And  it  sees  nothing  — it 
knows  nothing  — it  admits  of  nothing,  that  can 
lift  a successfully  opposing  arm  against  the  Almighty 
in  any  department  of  creation.  It  knows  no  event, 
of  however  surpassing  magnitude,  that  moves  not 
at  his  bidding ; and  none  so  small  as  to  escape  his 
ever  watchful  eye  or  wander  beyond  the  sphere  of 
his  influence  and  control ; and  it  thus  leads  us  near 
to  God  in  the  hour 'of  trial  and  affliction,  and  opens 
to  the  mind  the  blissful  truth,  that,  as  is  the  charac- 
ter, so  win  be  the  consummation  of  all  the  plans  and 
purposes  of  God.”  It  was  this  that  prompted  the 
afflicted  patriarch  to  exclaim,  “ The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away  ; blessed  be  the  name  of 
the  Lord.” 

It  may  be  difficult  for  some  hearts  to  feel  that  the 
darkest  events  of  Providence,  such  as  break  the  ranks 
of  a family,  and  disappoint  the  most  ardent  affec- 
tion, are  appointed  in  love.  But  it  is  no  less  true. 
The  ills  of  adversity  belong  to  the  order  of  a kind 
Providence  as  really  as  the  blessings  of  prosperity. 
God  does  not  rule  alone  in  the  brightness  of  a sum- 
mer’s day,  when  the  hills  and  valleys  are  robed  in 


208 


LITE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


loveliness,  the  soft  breezes  fan  the  opening  flowers, 
and  the  bright  waters  invite  the  bleating  flocks.  But 
he  rules  in  the  blasts  of  winter,  scatters  the  rattling 
hail,  and  piles  the  drifting  snows.  He  rules  not  only 
when  the  balmy  air  sends  life  to  every  plant,  and 
the  sun  pours  down  his  genial  rays,  but,  — 

“ He  yokes  tte  -wliirlwind  to  his  car, 

And  sweeps  the  howling  skies.” 

He  speaks  in  the  booming  thunder  as  reaUy  as  in 
the  hum  of  insects  and  the  sweet  carol  of  the  birds. 
His  love  pervades  each  scene,  for  he  changes  not. 
“ God  is  love,”  in  “ clouds  and  darkness,”  as  well  as 
in  the  sunshine. 

So  in  the  moral  world,  he  changes  not  when  he 
pierces  the  soul  with  many  sorrows.  In  sickness 
and  in  bereavement,  his  benevolent  heart  is  moved 
by  the  same  kind  design.  He  means  our  good  and 
his  own  glory.  Who  does  not  rejoice  in  the  reflec- 
tion, that  sickness  and  death  are  under  Divine  con- 
trol ? How  fearful  would  be  the  gathering  storm,  if 
it  heeded  no  voice  but  that  of  chance  ! So  disease, 
careering  over  the  land,  independent  of  the  Dmne 
vdll,  would  attack  and  consume  its  victims  without 
a solace.  He  would  leave  the  world  in  unmingled 
sorrow  and  anguish.  How  precious,  then,  is  this 
doctrine,  that  makes  death  itself  a messenger  of 
God ! It  stills  the  mental  tumult,  and  leads  the 
mourner  to  bow  in  sweet  submission,  because  it  is 
the  hand  of  God.  Richard  Boyle  ordered  the  fol- 
lowing sentiment  to  be  carved  upon  his  grave-stone, 
“ God’s  Providence  is  my  inheritance.”  Even  the 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


209 


corrupt  and  sensual  Moore,  in  an  hour  of  trial,  gave 
vent  to  his  feelings  in  the  following  beautiful  lines : — 

“ O tliou  -svlio  driest  tlie  mourner’s  tears  ! 

How  dark  this  world  would  be, 

If,  when  deceived  and  wounded  here. 

We  could  not  Hy  to  thee  ! ” 

Sad  consequences  have  resulted  in  severe  bereave- 
ment, where  there  was  no  recognition  of  this  truth. 
Octavia,  the  sister  of  the  emperor  Augustus,  sur- 
vived the  death  of  her  son  MarceUus  twelve  years, 
all  of  which  time  she  spent  in  mourning,  refusing 
consolation  from  her  surviving  children,  and  choosing 
for  herself  darkness  and  solitude.  The  gifted  Cicero 
gave  himself  up  to  in,consolable  grief  when  his 
favorite  daughter  Tullia  died.  He  had  proclaimed 
to  men  the  value  of  philosophy  as  the  comforter  of 
the  afflicted.  But  it  was  no  remedy  for  his  own  ex- 
cessive grief.  So  he  erected  a temple  to  the  memory 
of  Tulha,  and  worshipped  her  as  a goddess.  The 
pious  Dr.  Beattie,  who  recognized  this  doctrine  in 
theory,  but  failed  to  rest  upon  it  when  his  sons  were 
removed  by  death,  suffered  in  consequence  a tempo- 
rary loss  of  memory.  His  biographer  relates  concern- 
ing the  younger  son,  that  “ many  times  his  father 
could  not  recoUect  what  had  become  of  him,  and 
after  searching  in  every  room  of  the  house,  he  would 
say  to  his  niece,  ‘ you  may  think  it  strange,  but  I 
must  ask  you  if  I have  a son,  and  where  he  is.’  ” 

“ I am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life.”  This  is 
the  second  gracious  announcement  of  the  Gospel  to 
this  world  of  the  dying.  Death  is  gloomy  and  re- 
volting, when  we  regard  only  its  externals.  Confin- 
18* 


210 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


ing  our  thoughts  solely  to  its  power  in  severing  the 
ties  of  life,  we  shrink  from  its  approach.  Who 
that  has  stood  beside  the  bier,  and  gazed  upon  the 
motionless  corpse,  cold,  stiff,  and  marble-hke,  has  not 
revolted  at  the  thought  of  death  ! 

“ And  death  is  terrible  — the  tear, 

The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bier. 

And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  fear. 

Of  agony,  are  his  ! ” * 

The  closed  and  sunken  eye,  that  once  beamed  with 
inteUigence,  or  flashed  with  delight ; the  paUid  hps, 
once  uttering  sentiments  of  wisdom,  and  the  pulse- 
less heart,  — strange  contrast  with  life,  — all  awaken 
thoughts  of  sadness.  When  absorbed  in  this  survey 
of  a friend’s  unburied  remains,  let  the  doctrine  of 
utter  annihilation  take  possession  of  the  mind.  The 
spirit,  which  once  gave  hfe  and  beauty  to  that  form 
of  clay,  returned  to  primitive  nothing  — now  non- 
existent ! All  that  is  left  of  the  once  loved  friend 
are  the  lifeless  remains  in  the  coffin  ! A miion  sev- 
ered, never  more  to  be  enjoyed ! Ties  broken  for- 
ever! Death  — the  end  of  all  hope  — an  eternal 
parting ! If  the  pangs  of  sorrow  can  be  increased, 
if  a drop  can  be  added  to  the  cup  of  human  bitter- 
ness, this  doctrine  is  suited  to  such  an  end.  Eternal 
silence  to  reign  over  the  future ! A dark  cloud  drop- 
ping down  its  folds  of  blackness  upon  the  tomb ! 
An  indescribable  chaos  swallowing  up  life  eternally ! 
Boding  night  — endless  — without  a morning ! Oh, 
what  alleviation  of  sorrow  to  hear  a voice  breaking 


* Halleck. 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


211 


the  deep  silence  of  such  a scene,  “ I am  the  Resur- 
rection and  the  Life ! ” How  sweet  to  hail  Im- 
manuel, as  he  comes  to  destroy  death  — “ to  grapple 
with  the  mighty  conqueror,  and  break  his  tyranny  in 
pieces.” 

If  over  the  desolation  of  winter,  with  its  blasted 
buds,  cheerless  skies,  and  howling  winds,  no  return- 
ing spring  were  to  shed  its  genial  influence,  and 
clothe  the  earth  with  new  forms  of  life,  sadness  would 
possess  the  soul  as  autumn  buries  the  glories  of  de- 
parting summer,  and  heralds  the  rough  blasts  and 
drifting  snows.  But  far  sadder  must  be  the  heart 
of  him,  who  commits  a member  of  his  own  family 
to  the  dust,  with  no  hope  that  he  will  “ live  again.” 

But  the  soul  shrinks  from  the  thought  of  absblute 
extinction.  The  hart  panteth  not  after  the  water- 
brook  with  more  eagerness  than  mankind  anticipate 
a future  existence.  Against  the  idea  of  becoming 
lost  to  consciousness  at  death,  some  entertain  the 
strangest  and  most  absurd  opinions  respecting  the 
condition  of  the  soul  hereafter.  The  history  of  these 
singular  opinions  illustrates  with  what  earnestness 
the  race  have  sought  to  escape  from  the  awful  fore- 
bodings which  the  doctrine  of  annihilation  inevitably 
creates.  To  some  hearts  it  were  more  congenial  to 
reflect,  that  the  soul  of  a departed  friend  inhabits  the 
body  of  a grazing  beast  or  soaring  bird. 

We  have  said  that  the  young  man  dies.  You 
have  seen  him  die,  — the  young  man  of  gifted  mind, 
high  attainments,  and  pure  and  generous  aspirations. 
He  is  fitted  for  almost  any  office  or  calling,  and  can 
promptly  meet  almost  any  demand  of  his  asking 
country.  Yet  alike  with  the  unlettered  and  brutish 


212 


LIPE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


he  falls  in  death.  Who  can  believe  that  his  gifted 
mind,  just  expanding  into  its  commanding  greatness, 
and  fitted  to  wield  a mighty  influence  over  the  des- 
tinies of  men,  has  become  extinct  ? Who  can  be- 
lieve that  his  noble  heart,  with  its  pure  desires  and 
living  virtues,  has  sunk  to  everlasting  oblivion  ? Who 
can  believe  that  his  regenerated  soul,  burning  ■udth 
quenchless  zeal  to  advance  the  truth,  and  glowhig 
with  the  purest  passion,  — love  to  God,  — is  lost  in 
absolute  extinction?  None.  Thought  abjures  the 
sentiment.  Affection  repudiates  it.  Religion  abhors 
it.  The  imagination  instinctively  follows  the  spmt, 
as  it  enters  the  celestial  land,  and  its  faculties  con- 
tinue to  unfold  in  ceaseless  and  indefinite  expansion. 

The  reader  has  been  pointed  to  the  dying  child. 
Perhaps  he  has  gone  down  to  the  grave  from  your 
own  family.  As  you  stood  sorrowing  over  the 
stricken  “ bud  of  being,”  with  the  soft  tones  of  its 
voice  yet  ringing  in  the  ear,  and  the  recollection  of 
all  that  was  wmning  and  beautiful,  vivid  as  the 
reafity,  could  you  believe  for  a moment  that  all  that 
loveliness  had  perished  forever  ? That  there  is  no 
better,  brighter  world,  whither  such  lovely  beings  go 
to  dwell  ? No ! For  then  would  the  giving  of  life 
be  like  weaving  and  straining  the  silver  chords  to  see 
them  snap  asunder,  — lilie  fashioning  the  “ golden 
bowl  ” to  see  it  dashed  in  pieces.  No ! “ In  my 

Father’s  house  are  many  mansions,”  and  God  hath 
one  for  the  departed  infant. 

“ Thy  brother  shall  live  again ! ” It  was  announced 
to  the  weeping  sisters  of  Bethany  at  the  grave  of 
their  brother.  It  was  said  to  console  them  in  their 
great  affliction.  “ Thy  brother  shall  live  again  ! ” 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


213 


He  has  not  perished.  He  shall  live  as  truly  as  he 
liveth  on  earth ; — live  with  all  the  faculties  of  his 
soul  active  as  when  he  walked  with  you ; — hve  in 
heaven  — live  with  God.  “Live  again!”  What 
words  to  revive  the  drooping  hopes  of  men  in  this 
world  of  the  dying,  — to  swell  above  the  sdent  dust 
of  all  that  is  loved  and  lovely ! If  Christ  had  left 
the  throne  to  utter  no  other  words  than  these  on 
earth,  stiU  His  mission  to  the  heirs  of  affliction  would 
have  been  glorious.  A larger  debt  of  gratitude  would 
yet  have  been  His  due  than  we  owe  to  our  best 
earthly  benefactor. 

Go  to  the  chamber  of  the  dying  believer,  and  there 
learn  how  precious  is  this  truth.  Draw  aside  the 
curtain  that  conceals  the  last  hours  of  a saint’s  exist- 
ence on  earth.  Hear  his  faltering  accents  of  joy  and 
peace,  — a man  exulting  as  he  grapples  with  his  last 
fierce  foe.  Victorious  struggle ! Look  on,  railing 
sceptics,  God  bids  you  look,  to  witness  joy  in  intens- 
est  suffering,  hope  refulgent  as  the  breaking  morn, 
and  patience  in  the  veriest  agonies ! Whence  comes 
that  peace  so  like  a river  ? It  is  the  fruit  of  the 
hope  which  he  cherishes  “ to  live  again.”  Hear  his 
triumphant  language.  “ I know  that  my  Redeemer 
liveth.”  “ I shall  be  satisfied  when  I awake  with  thy 
hkeness.”  “ For  we  know  that  if  our  earthly  house 
of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a building 
of  God,  an  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in 
the  heavens.”  “ O death,  where  is  thy  sting  ? O 
grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? ” 

“ It  is  good  for  me  that  I have  been  afflicted.” 
This  is  the  last  consoling  truth  of  the  Gospel  to 
which  I direct  the  afflicted  family.  This  dissipates 


214 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


many  of  the  so-called  “ mysteries  of  Providence,” 
and  presents  afflictions  as  “ blessings  in  disguise.” 
They  are  no  longer  unmingled  evils.  This  is  not 
only  the  doctrine  of  the  Scriptm'es,  it  is  the  lesson  of 
experience  and  observation.  It  is  taught  by  the  pen 
of  the  essayist  and  poet.  One  has  said,  “ It  is  better 
to  go  to  a fmieral  than  a festival,”  — a sentiment 
derived  from  the  proverb  of  Solomon,  “ It  is  better  to 
go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than  to  the  house  of 
feasting.”  Even  the  heathen  Demetrius  said  that 
“ nothing  could  be  more  unhappy  than  the  man  who 
had  never  known  affliction.”  Goldsmith  gave  the 
sentiment  a place  in  the  following  stanza  : — 

“ Aromatic  plants  bestow 
No  spicy  fragrance  while  tliey  grow  ; 

But,  cruslied  or  trodden  to  the  ground, 

Dllfuse  their  balmy  sweets  around.” 

Prosperity  is  seldom,  if  ever,  turned  to  such  val- 
uable uses  as  affliction.  It  is  not  in  the  full  tide  of 
prosperity  that  the  kindliest  graces  of  the  heart  are 
developed.  The  strongest  bond  of  sympathy  is 
created  between  coheirs  in  affliction.  On  such  a 
soil  as  adversity,  the  benevolent  emotions  thrive  best. 
Two  hearts,  similarly  afflicted,  have  strong  affinities. 
They  sustain  a relation  to  each  other  peculiarly 
tender.  They  maintain  a cherished  intercourse. 
All  their  feelings  are  peculiarly  fraternal.  The 
widow  clasps  the  hand  of  widow  yvdth  singular  de- 
votion. The  orphan  meets  a fellow  orphan  with 
such  gushing  sympathies  as  strangers  to  the  sorrow 
cannot  exhibit.  The  bereaved  parent  condoles  with 
his  afflicted  neighbor  in  the  loss  of  his  children  as 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


215 


others  cannot.  Almost  with  magic  charms,  this 
discipline  of  affliction  brings  hearts  together.  Noth- 
ing so  effectually  removes  discordant  elements  from 
the  household.  Affection  often  glows  with  new  and 
vigorous  life  over  the  corpse  of  a parent  or  child, 
brother  or  sister.  By  strong  ligaments  of  sympathy, 
it  may  sometimes  unite  the  members  of  a family 
otherwise  alienated  and  unhappy. 

Here,  too,  is  often  insured  a thrifty  growth  in 
grace.  The  dross  of  human  corruption  is  purged 
from  the  heart,  while  Christ,  as  the  “ refiner  and 
purifier  of  silver,”  sits  to  superintend  the  process. 
Plowever  severe  the  ordeal  of  grief  to  which  a person 
is  subjected,  if  that  alone  will  win  the  wanderer 
fi'om  the  paths  of  worldhness,  and  cause  him  “to 
run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  him,” 
it  must  be  accounted  a “ blessing  in  disguise.” 
Indeed,  did  we  know  that  a backshder  might  be 
aroused  from  his  moral  stupor  and  made  a burning 
and  shining  light  by  the  death  of  some  member  of 
his  family  and  by  that  alone,  with  an  ardent  faith 
and  an  approving  conscience  we  could  supplicate 
God  to  send  the  necessary  bereavement.  We  read 
of  Manasseh,  “ when  he  was  in  affliction,  he  besought 
the  Lord  his  God,  and  humbled  himself  greatly  be- 
fore the  God  of  his  fathers.”  The  Psalmist  declared, 
“ before  I was  afflicted  I went  astray ; but  now  have 
I kept  thy  word.”  And  the  gi-eat  Apostle,  in  his 
letter  to  the  Hebrews,  says,  “ Now  no  chastening  for 
the  present  seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but  grievous  ; nev- 
ertheless, afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruit  of 
righteousness  unto  them  which  are  exercised  thereby.” 

When  afflictions  thus  “ carry  us  back  to  God,  and 


216 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


purge  the  heart  and  life  from  sin,  leaving  both  more 
pure,  heavenly,  and  humble  than  they  found  them  ; 
or  when,  better  stiU,  a long-continued  and  most 
bereaving  trial  leads  a Christian  to  do  what  it  is  said 
the  pearl  oyster  does,  that  is,  secrete  from  itself  a 
precious  substance  to  cover  the  irritating  grain  of 
sand  or  sharp  bit  of  metal  that  has  got  within  its 
shell,  thus  turning  it  into  a gem,  how  blessed  the 
effect ; and  who  would  not  be  almost  willing  to  bear 
the  tiial  for  the  sake  of  the  resulting  pearl  ? ” 

Often  affliction  saves  the  soul.  “ We  must 
through  much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.”  “ Our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a mo- 
ment, worketh  for  us  a far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory.”  Examples,  as  illustrations 
of  this  truth,  accumulate  on  every  hand.  We  cite 
but  one.  Many  years  ago,  upon  a promontory 
jutting  out  into  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic,  in  a des- 
olate locahty,  and  upon  a rocky  shore,  stood  a humble 
cottage,  apart  from  human  habitations.  When  the 
storm-winds  howled  along  that  dangerous  sea,  and 
the  night  grew  dark  with  tempest,  a friendly  light 
was  seen  through  the  lonely  watches,  beaming  from 
the  window  of  that  humble  dwelling.  Now  and 
then  it  would  reveal  a form  passing  and  repassing 
behind  it  with  quick  and  anxious  pace.  All  through 
the  stormy  night,  the  taper  was  kept  brightly  burning 
to  cheer  and  warn  the  mariner.  The  sailors  called  it 
the  “ Lighthouse.”  There  lived  a widow,  once  god- 
less, but  now  Christhke.  She  had  seen,  from  her 
lonely  habitation,  the  vessel  in  which  her  husband 
sailed,  returning  from  a long  voyage,  dashed  upon 
the  rocks  by  a pitiless  gale.  Then  she  saw  her  hus- 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


217 


band,  within  sight  of  his  own  home,  his  heart  beating 
high  to  cross  the  threshold,  swallowed  in  the  boiling 
sea.  She  was  almost  near  enough  to  hear  his  voice 
mingle  with  the  roar  of  the  warring  elements,  yet 
powerless  to  aid.  Heart-rending  affliction!  But  it 
brought  her  to  Christ.  She  lived  to  save  many 
mariners,  cast  upon  those  shores  in  boisterous  nights. 
With  her  humble  fare  she  fed  them ; with  her  cheer- 
ful fire  she  warmed  them ; from  her  loved  Bible  she 
instructed  them ; and  with  the  voice  of  prayer  she 
daily  interceded  for  them. 

The  Eastern  shepherd,  folding  his  flock  at  night, 
takes  up  the  new-born  lamb  in  his  arms,  and  bears 
it  away  to  the  fold,  sure  that  the  careful  mother 
will  closely  follow.  So  Christ  has  won  many  a pro- 
crastinating parent  by  first  taking  the  child  to  his 
bosom  in  glory.  The  line  of  ParneU  has  many 
affecting  illustrations : — 

“ Then  God,  to  save  the  father,  took  the  son.” 

How  beautiful  are  some  of  the  scriptural  allusions 
upon  this  subject ! “ They  that  sow  in  tears  shall 

reap  in  joy.”  “ He  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth, 
bearing  precious  seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again 
with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him.”  “ The 
ransomed  of  the  Lord  shah  return  and  come  to  Zion 
with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads ; 
they  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness,  and  sorrow  and 
sighing  shall  flee  away.” 

Here  we  may  profitably  contrast  some  of  the 
proffered  consolations  of  worldly  philosophy  with 
these  delightful  supports  of  the  Gospel.  The  first  to 
which  the  reader’s  attention  may  be  directed  is  ex- 

19 


218 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


pressed  by  the  phrase  “ common  lot.”  The  idea 
more  fully  expressed  stands  thus : — this  is  the  com- 
mon lot  of  men  ; they  are  born  to  trouble ; it  comes 
in  every  form ; others  mourn,  and  so  must  we.  All 
this  may  be  very  true,  and  harmonize  with  Scripture, 
observation,  and  experience ; but  this  alone  will  not 
administer  comfort.  Will  it  console  the  weeping 
mother,  going  with  her  heart  oppressed  wdth  sorrow 
to  lay  her  beautiful  babe  in  the  grave,  to  be  told  that 
other  parents  are  called  to  a like  affliction  ? Will 
it  dry  the  tears  of  the  afflicted  wife,  following  the 
remains  of  her  companion  to  the  tomb,  to  hear  the 
intelligence,  that  thousands  experience  a similar  be- 
reavement ? Not  at  aU.  Here  is  no  recognition  of 
the  Divine  hand.  A heathen  would  say  the  same. 
A deist  believes  it  wdth  aU  his  heart.  W^ere  no  God 
upon  the  throne,  as  much  might  be  said  with  equal 
truth.  If  consolation  can  be  found  in  such  counsel 
as  this,  then  we  need  no  religious  truth,  no  Word  of 
God,  no  God  himself.  We  may  live  and  die.  hke 
the  heathen,  consoled  by  the  fact,  suited  to  awaken 
commiseration  rather  than  dehght,  that  multitudes 
are  crushed  by  similar  sorrows. 

“We  must  be  resigned  to  our  fate.”  This  coun- 
sel belongs  to  the  same  category  as  the  above. 
There  is  no  acknowledgment  of  the  Divine  gov- 
ernment. It  means,  if  it  means  any  thing,  that  we 
should  meet  our  earthly  lot,  whatever  it  may  be,  as 
unalterable,  without  reference  to  its  meaning  or  its 
cause.  We  cannot  help  ourselves,  so  we  must  sum- 
mon our  natural  fortitude,  and  meet  the  shock  heroi- 
cally, as  the  warrior  faces  the  mouth  of  a loaded  can- 
non. Such  counsel  appeals  to  those  elements  of 


FAMILY  APFLICTIOHS. 


219 


character  that  make  a brave  soldier  on  the  battle 
field,  but  not  a Christian  at  the  Cross.  There  is 
less  religion  in  it  than  there  was  in  the  old  doctrine 
of  the  Fates,  as  taught  by  the  ancient  Mythology. 
The  Fates  were  reported  to  be  “ three  sisters,  daugh- 
ters of  Night,  whom  Jupiter  permitted  to  decide  the 
fortune,  and  especially  the  duration,  of  mortal  life. 
One  of  them  attached  the  thread,  the  second  spun  it, 
and  the  third  cut  it  off  when  the  end  of  life  arrived.” 
There  is  more  of  a religious  character  here  than  in 
the  counsel  quoted  above,  because  it  recognizes  an 
ever-watchful  and  overruling  agency  in  human  ex- 
perience. It  is  more  consistent  with  the  relations  of 
a dependent  being,  to  acknowledge  even  an  infernal 
agency  in  human  destiny,  than  no  agency  at  all.  I 
would  as  lief  die  amid  the  darkness  of  this  old,  mys- 
tic doctrine  of  Greece  and  Rome,  as  amid  the  no 
less  darkness  that  accompanies  such  miserable  coun- 
sels of  worldly  philosophy. 

“We  all  must  die.”  The  author  once  heard  this 
sentence  uttered  in  an  afflicted  family,  over  the  very 
remains  of  a deceased  member,  amid  the  sighs  and 
sobbings  of  agonized  hearts  ; and  it  was  uttered  in  a 
tone  which  indicated  that  the  speaker  thought  he 
had  brought,  in  the  words,  some  “ balm  of  Gilead  ” 
to  bleeding  hearts.  Poor  human  comforter!  He 
stood  in  the  midst  of  weeping,  and  his  sympathetic 
heart  was  aU  alive  to  administer  consolation.  He 
desired  to  speak  some  word,  or  utter  some  sentiment 
that  would  dry  a tear,  or  prevent  a pang.  But  he 
had  never  been  himself  to  the  Cross,  and  how  could 
he  impart  consolation  ? His  poor,  dumb  mouth 
found  no  word  or  way  of  utterance  till  his  worldly 


220 


LIFE  AT  THE  PERESIDE. 


philosophy  parted  his  lips,  and  bade  him  say,  “ AU 
must  die.”  Without  religion,  how  impotent  is  man 
in  fhe  house  of  mourning ! He  has  not  a thought 
nor  word  nor  emotion  suited  to  meet  the  wants  of 
grieving  souls  around  him.  How  dare  he  live  ex- 
posed with  all  his  family  to  sudden  and  dreadful  rup- 
ture, by  misfortune  and  death,  with  no  imfailing 
refuge  in  trouble,  and  no  covert  from  the  storm! 
He  can  exclaim,  “ common  lot  ” — “ we  must  be  re- 
signed to  our  fate  ” — “ aU  must  die  ” — and  this  is 
the  climax  of  his  consolation  ! Such  advisers  in  the 
habitation  of  mourning  are  like  Job’s  three  firiends, 
“ miserable  comforters.” 

“ Thy  wlU.  be  done.”  This  is  the  mommer’s  lan- 
guage of  submission,  and  is  the  hardest,  last-learned 
lesson  in  the  school  of  Christ.  Yet  it  may  be 
learned.  The  difference  between  the  counsels  of 
the  gospel  and  those  of  the  world,  as  before  con- 
sidered, presents  the  ground  of  this  cordial  and  com- 
plete submission.  When,  from  an  overflowing  heart, 
the  bereaved  family  can  lift  this  triumphant  prayer, 
they  are  ready  to  exclaim  with  David,  “ It  is  good 
for  me  that  I have  been  afflicted.” 

In  this  petition  we  recognize  the  truth  that  “ the 
Lord  reigneth,”  and  virtually  profess  to  “ rejoice.” 
We  voluntarily  offer  to  resign  the  dearest  objects  we 
possess,  — wealth,  pleasure,  fame,  friends,  or  life  it- 
self. We  invite,  yea,  we  implore  God,  if  he  pleases, 
to  give  wings  to  the  last  farthing  of  our  possessions, 
to  disappoint  our  hopes,  to  thwart  our  cherished 
plans,  to  distress  our  families,  to  cut  down  a friend 
by  death  ; and  now,  what  though  he  send  the  blight 
and  mUdew  upon  our  harvest  fields,  did  we  not  im- 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


221 


plore  him  to  do  it,  if  he  pleased  ? What  though  he 
withholds  his  blessing  from  the  secular  enterprise,  and 
it  terminates  in  failure,  did  we  not  invoke  him  to  do 
his  wiU  ? What  though  he  take  the  parent,  husband, 
wife  or  child,  and  gloom  and  darkness  cover  our 
pathway,  was  not  our  supplication,  “ Thy  will  be 
done?”  This  may  be  its  answer.  Some  of  the 
rough  gales,  that  sweep  the  shores  of  time,  are  but 
the  answerings  of  a God  who  hears  this  prayer. 
With  no  uttered  or  imagined  proviso,  or  condition, 
with  no  reserved  liberty  to  interpose  a question,  we 
pray,  “ Thy  will  be  done.” 

A Sabbath  school  teacher  was  inparting  instruc- 
tion to  his  class  upon  this  portion  of  the  Lord’s 
Prayer  — “ Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in 
heaven.”  “ You  have  told  me,”  said  he,  “ what  is 
to  be  done  — the  will  of  God;  and  where  it  is  to  be 
done  — on  earth  ; and  how  it  is  to  be  done,  — as  it 
is  done  in  heaven.  How  do  you  think  the  angels  and 
the  happy  spirits  do  the  will  of  God  in  heaven,  as 
they  are  to  be  our  pattern  ? ” The  first  child  replied, 
“ They  do  it  immediately ; ” the  second,  “ They  do  it 
diligently ; ” the  third,  “ They  do  it  always ; ” the 
fourth,  “ They  do  it  with  all  their  hearts ; ” the  fifth, 
“ They  do  it  altogether.'^'  Here  a pause  ensued,  until 
at  length  a little  girl  arose  and  said,  “ They  do  it 
without  asking  any  questions."  No  commentator  has 
ever  given  a better  interpretation  of  this  petition. 
This  is  true  SUBMISSION,  — to  bow  “ without  asking 
any  questions."  Less  than  this  is  calling  in  question 
Divine  equity. 

Then,  is  not  this  lesson  of  submission  a difficult 
one  to  learn  ? Is  it  easy  in  all  circumstances  to  say, 
19* 


222 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


“ Thy  will  be  done,”  and  say  it  in  good  faith  ? Sup- 
pose it  is  a bright  morning  of  winter,  and  your  hopes 
are  bright  as  the  morning ; your  children  go  out  to 
learn  lessons  in  the  school-room  to  return  again  at 
noontide  hour  as  buoyant  as  when  they  left.  You 
dream  not  that  a lesson  of  sublimer  import  than  theirs 
is  to  be  submitted  to  yourself  before  the  close  of  day. 
But  in  an  unexpected  moment  there  is  a terrible 
crash,  and  hundreds  of  pupils  are  precipitated  Irom 
a dangerous  height,  amid  wild  shrieks  of  terror  and 
stifled  death-groans.  The  children,  whom  you  ex- 
pected to  greet  in  a few  brief  hours,  are  brought 
home  and  laid  corpses  at  your  feet.  You  are  child- 
less. Is  submission  an  easy  lesson  to  learn  ? Can 
a graceless  heart  lift  the  supplication  over  this  scene 
of  death,  “ Thy  will  be  done,”  believing  that  it 
were  better  that  such  a sorrow  discipline  the  heart  ? 

You  are  a passenger  on  board  some  ill-fated 
Atlantic.  You  are  bound  after  a long  absence  to 
the  place  of  your  birth,  where  affectionate  hearts  are 
waiting  to  bid  you  welcome.  A few  more  hours, 
and  your  feet  will  stand  in  the  hall  that  once  re- 
sounded with  your  voice,  and  had  a circle  which 
needs  your  presence  only  to  render  its  numerous 
relationships  unbroken.  But  a furious  storm  tosses 
your  boat  upon  the  sea,  and  amid  the  crashing  of 
glass,  the  roaring  of  waves,  and  the  jutting  of  rocks, 
you  yield  up  life  in  despair.  Is  it  easy  to  say  to 
the  God  who  speaks,  and  the  tvdnds  and  waves 
obey  him,  who  commands,  and  the  elements  has- 
ten to  destroy  — is  it  easy  to  say  in  honesty,  “ Thy 
will  be  done  ? ” 

Yet  the  lesson  may  be  learned.  Who  that  has 


FAMILY  AFFLICTIONS. 


223 


confidence  in  the  character  and  providence  of  God, 
and  truly  believes  that  “ all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  God  ” cannot  bow  in  meek 
submission  to  his  will?  So  did  John  Elliot  when 
he  said,  “ I have  had  six  children,  and  I bless  God 
for  his  grace,  they  are  all  with  Christ  or  in  Christ, 
and  my  mind  is  at  rest  concerning  them.  My  desire 
was  that  they  should  serve  Christ  on  earth ; but  if 
God  win  choose  to  have  them  serve  him  in  heaven, 
I have  nothing  to  object  to  it.  His  will  be  done.” 
So  did  the  good  archbishop  of  Cambray,  when  his 
royal  pupil,  the  young  duke  of  Burgundy,  died. 
Said  he,  “ If  there  were  needed  no  more  than  the 
moving  of  a straw  to  bring  him  to  life  again,  I would 
not  do  it,  since  the  Divine  pleasure  is  otherwise.” 
So  have  many  others  done. 

“ And  he  said.  These  are  they  which  came  out  of 
great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes  and 
made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.”  Their 
sore  afflictions  win  for  them  a “ more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory.”  Their  joy  is  sweeter  for 
having  sown  in  tears.  Their  crown  is  brighter  for 
having  passed  the  fiery  trial.  The  discipline  of  trib- 
ulation magnifies  the  glories  of  immortality.  “ The 
greater  the  trial,  the  brighter  the  crown ! ” To  us 
who  are  looking  for  a “ better  country,  even  an  heav- 
enly,” this  is  a grateful  truth.  It  presents  the  em- 
bodiment of  aU  that  is  hallowed  in  thought,  aU  that 
is  elevating  in  desire,  and  all  that  is  precious  in  the 
consummation  of  hope.  A few  fleeting  years  of 
sorrow  we  “ count  all  joy,”  if  the  resulting  fruit  is  a 
richer  reward  at  God’s  right  hand.  We  can  well 
afford  to  weep  over  disappointed  expectation,  and 


224 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


affection  can  afford  to  droop  over  the  dust  of  "the 
departed,  if  it  shall  add  one  drop  to  our  cup  of  bliss 
in  the  Paradise  of  God. 

The  purest  earthly  enjoyment  succeeds  the  gloom- 
iest hours  of  trial.  The  sweetest  rest  comes  after  a 
season  of  wearisome  toU.  The  most  refulgent  sun 
shines  after  the  darkest  day.  Hope’s  realization  is 
more  complete  after  long-delayed  and  suffering  ex- 
pectation. The  long-absent  mariner  anticipates  the 
end  of  his  tedious  voyage.  His  thoughts  often 
wander  over  the  treacherous  waves  to  his  home  and 
kindred,  and  he  sighs  for  his  native  land.  But  the 
adverse  winds  delay  him  in  his  course,  and  alternate 
hope  and  fear  pervade  his  heart,  as  sunshine  smiles 
or  tempests  lower,  all  serving  to  magnify  the  happy 
meeting  of  friends  which  his  imagination  paints. 
Hours  drag  heavily,  and  the  gales  seem  to  withhold 
their  waftmg  influence,  as  anticipation  strengthens 
wdth  the  passing  weeks.  Nearer  and  nearer  he  ap- 
proaches the  desired  haven,  until  at  length  the  green 
hiUs  of  his  childhood’s  home  heave  in  sight,  and  his 
anxious  friends  welcome  liim  to  the  shore.  TMio 
can  measure  his  joy?  It  is  greater  because  of  perils 
and  hairbreadth  escapes.  Li  this  is  a true  sjTubol 
of  the  Christian’s  life.  He  sails  on  smooth  waters 
to-day ; to-morrow  the  sea  is  rough.  Now  fear 
agitates  liis  bosom  ; then  hope  brightens.  He  thinks 
of  the  pure  abode  of  the  righteous ; but  the  land  is 
not  in  sight.  Anon  it  bursts  upon  his  view,  and 
the  redeemed  of  God  welcome  him  to  its  blissful 
inheritance.  His  reward  is  greater  for  the  - perils 
of  the  way.  Now,  his  “joy  is  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory.” 


X. 


FAMILY  EEADING. 


“ She  shuts  the  dear,  dear  book  that  made  her  weep, 

Puts  out  her  light,  and  turns  away  to  sleep.” 

Sprague. 

“ Books  should  to  one  of  these  four  ends  conduce. 

For  wisdom,  piety,  delight,  or  use.” 

Denham. 


Books  are  the  embalmed  thoughts  of  men  and 
women,  who  are  absent  or  dead.  Through  them  we 
may  visit  aU  climes  and  ages,  and  fellowship  with  aU 
sorts  of  spirits.  A good  book  is  a good  companion. 
Next  to  fellowship  with  the  living  author,  its  in- 
fluence is  hallowed  upon  the  mind  and  heart.  A 
bad  book  is  a bad  companion.  Next  to  the  direct 
influence  of  its  vicious  author,  it  corrupts  the  moral 
being.  If  the  principles,  maxims,  and  counsels  con- 
tained in  numerous  books  were  known  to  be  em- 
bodied in  the  character  of  an  individual,  few  parents 
would  consent  to  his  companionship  with  their  chil- 
dren. May  not  the  same  principles,  maxims,  and 
counsels  have  equal  power  upon  the  printed  page  ? 
If  a living  man  is  a dangerous  associate  because  Otf 
his  corrupting  sentiments  and  conduct,  then  what 
must  be  the  influence  of  his  book,  which  is  but 
a transcript  of  his  mind  ? If  a man  is  a good  or 

(225) 


226 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


bad  companion,  so  is  a book.  “ Evil  communi- 
cations corrupt  good  manners,”  whether  exemplified, 
spoken,  or  penned. 

To  every  intelligent  family,  this  is  a matter  of 
great  importance.  Reading  is  no  small  item  in  the 
history  of  numerous  households.  How  much  it  has 
to  do  with  the  formation  of  character  therein,  we 
may  not  be  able  to  determine.  Doubtless  it  in- 
spires sentiments,  awakens  emotions,  cultivates  prin- 
ciples, and  forms  tastes,  wMch  have  much  to  do  with 
both  temporal  and  eternal  destiny.  At  least,  weU- 
conducted  reading  becomes  to  aU  the  members  of  a 
family,  recreation,  amusement,  and  profit. 

Sir  John  Herschel  said,  “ Were  I to  pray  for  a 
taste  which  should  stand  me  instead  under  every 
variety  of  circumstance,  and  be  a source  of  happiness 
and  cheerfulness  to  me  dm-ing  life,  and  a shield 
against  its  iUs,  however  things  might  go  amiss,  and 
the  world  frown  upon  me,  it  would  be  a taste  for 
reading.  Give  a man  this  taste,  and  the  means  of 
gratifying  it,  and  you  can  hardly  fail  of  making  him 
a happy  man,  unless,  indeed,  you  put  into  his  hands 
a most  perverse  selection  of  books.  You  place  him 
in  contact  with  the  best  society  in  every  period  of 
history ; with  the  wisest,  the  wittiest,  the  tenderest, 
the  bravest,  and  the  purest  characters  who  have 
adorned  humanity.  You  make  him  a denizen  of  aU 
nations,  a contemporary  of  aU  ages.  The  world  has 
been  created  for  him.” 

Happy  family  is  that  which  has  a taste  for  read- 
ing ! Promising  children  are  those,  who  love  to  read 
for  knowledge ! But  then,  the  exercise  needs  to  be 
under  the  dfiection  of  care,  discrimination,  and  wis- 


I’AMILY  READING. 


227 


dom.  For  a book  may  blast  the  brightest  hopes  of 
youth,  — gather  clouds  and  darkness  over  the  pros- 
pects of  a family,  — bring  parents,  sorrowing,  to  an 
untimely  grave. 

It  is  not  our  object  to  impart  counsel  as  to  what 
shall  be  read ; but  to  raise  the  note  of  warning  against 
one  kind  of  reading  which  is  prevalent  in  every 
village  of  the  land,  especially  among  the  young.  I 
mean  novel  reading. 

What  is  a novel?  This  question  demands  an 
answer.  Is  every  work  of  fiction  a novel  ? Surely 
not.  AU  novels  are  fiction ; but  all  works  of  fiction 
are  not  novels.  We  have  tales,  as  those  of  Mar- 
montel,  — fables,  as  those  of  ^sop,  — allegories,  as 
that  of  Bunyan’s  Pilgrim’s  Progress.  These  may  be 
imaginative,  fictitious  ; but  they  are  not  characterized 
by  the  deep-laid  plot,  the  variety  of  characters,  and 
the  importance  of  the  catastrophe,  which  distinguish 
the  novel.  The  following  definition  of  terms,  ap- 
proved by  the  best  authorities,  may  aid  in  presenting 
a more  lucid  answer  to  the  above  question. 

A fable  is  allegorical  — its  characters  are  imagi- 
nary. A tale  is  fictitious,  but  its  characters  are  not 
imaginary  ; they  are  drawn  from  real  life.  An  alle- 
gory is  “ a figurative  description  of  real  facts.” 

A novel  is  a more  complex,  thrilling,  and  bewitch- 
ing kind  of  fiction  than  the  tale.  Its  characters  are 
more  various ; its  contrivance  to  awaken  the  reader’s 
curiosity,  and  keep  him  in  suspense,  more  marked ; 
its  events  are  more  numerous  and  rapid ; its  scenes 
more  marvellous ; and  its  plot  more  intensely  excit- 
ing. Of  course,  it  appeals  more  strongly  to  the  pas- 
sions. 


228 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Romance  is  a kind  of  fiction  in  which  the  charac- 
ters and  scenes  appear  more  extraordinary  and  won- 
derful than  in  the  novel.  Hence,  it  appeals  to  the 
passions  with  more  force  than  even  the  novel. 

With  these  defiiutions  we  shall  be  able  to  answer 
more  distinctly  the  question,  what  is  a novel  ? There 
is  a great  lack  of  discrimination  in  WTiting  and  talk- 
ing upon  this  subject.  Some  have  defended  novel 
reading,  on  the  ground  that  Runyan’s  Pilgrim’s  Pro- 
gress, and  Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin  belong  to  this  class. 
But  our  definitions  make  the  former  strictly  an  alle- 
gory, and  the  latter  a tale.  They  widely  differ  from 
a novel.  A novel,  then,  is  not  every  form  of  fiction. 
It  is  not  fable,  nor  allegory,  nor  a tale.  It  is  just 
what  we  have  defined  it  to  be  above. 

We  do  not,  then,  denounce  all  fiction  as  worthless 
and  pernicious.  For  some  is  profitable  for  counsel 
and  reproof.  We  embrace  in  our  view  all  that  class 
of  writings  which  the  above  definition  of  a novel 
embraces ; and  since  romance  is  but  the  novel  made 
more  wonderful  and  marvellous,  we  give  to  the  term 
novel  reading  a wider  latitude,  and  apply  our  remarks 
also  to  this  class  of  writings.  Nor  do  we  speak 
alone  of  this  corrupting  fiction  bound  in  cloth,  sheep, 
morocco,  or  gdt ; but  we  speak  of  it  in  whatever 
form  it  appears,  whether  in  bound  volume,  in  cheap 
pamphlet,  or  in  the  columns  of  a penny  news-sheet. 

That  there  is  a marked  difference  between  the 
moral  character  of  novels,  against  which  we  would 
raise  the  note  of  alarm,  we  do  not  presume  to  deny. 
Ivanhoe,  for  instance,  is  preferable  to  Thaddeus  of 
Warsaw ; and  no  Christian  would  long  remain  in 
doubt  which  to  put  into  the  hand  of  a son  or  daugh- 


FAMILY  BEADING. 


229 


ter,  if  compelled  to  give  them  one  or  the  other.  Yet, 
who  would  not  feel  safer,  and  far  happier,  in  putting 
into  their  hands  some  work  of  science,  history,  or 
morality,  than  in  giving  them  even  the  polished 
Ivanhoe ! 

That  some  Christian  men  and  women  have  writ- 
ten novels,  we  do  not  deny.  But  then  their  works 
were  never  popular.  The  more  marked  the  tone  of 
morality  upon  their  pages,  the  less  eagerly  they  have 
been  sought,  and  been  consigned  the  sooner  to  obliv- 
ion. Were  a writer  now,  however  rich  in  reputation, 
even  some  world-famed  Scott  or  Bulwer,  to  com- 
mence the  preparation  of  novels  for  moral  instruction 
alone,  he  could  not  meet  the  sickly  wants  of  the 
novel-reading  community.  The  Religious  Courtship, 
and  Thornton  Abbey,  by  Defoe,  bearing  upon  every 
page  the  evident  design  of  the  author,  that  of  moral 
improvement,  were  never  popular.  The  works  of 
Richardson,  and  others  also,  who  have  been  ranked 
with  this  class  of  moral  novel  writers,  were  never 
eagerly  sought  after  by  novel  readers. 

Few  are  aware  of  the  vast,  numbers  of  novels 
which  are  published  and  scattered  far  and  wide. 
About  six  thousand  are  offered  for  sale  in  this  coun- 
try alone,  and  many  of  these  run  through  successive 
editions,  until  a copy  of  a single  novel  is  found  in 
ten,  and  even  twenty  thousand  families.  Doubtless 
the  whole  number  of  copies  is  far  in  advance  of  our 
present  computation.  Should  a son  or  daughter 
undertake  the  reading  of  these  six  thousand  novels, 
at  the  rate  of  two  per  week,  more  than  fifty-seven 
years  would  expire  before  the  stupendous  work  would 
be  completed. 


20 


230 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


In  addition  to  these  bound  volumes,  there  are 
“ yellow-covered  * ’ pamphlets,  and  news-sheets  which 
no  man  can  number,  filled  with  pernicious  fiction, 
and  swarming  like  the  locusts  of  Egypt  in  almost 
every  village  of  the  land.  We  read  of  newspapers, 
into  whose  columns  are  introduced  French  novels, 
and  similar  trash,  circulating  in  our  country  at  the 
rate  of  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  weekly ; and  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  in  the  heart  of  Eng- 
land, at  the  rate  of  one  hundred  thousand  per 
week.  These  are  afforded  cheap,  as  another  device 
of  the  archfiend,  that  a burning  tide  of  pollution 
may  pour  down  into  the  lower  strata  of  society,  to 
make  poverty  more  terrible  and  revolting.  Day  after 
day,  and  week  after  week,  this  flashy  and  corrupting 
literature  is  mining  away  at  the  foundation  of  the 
social  compact,  by  polluting  immortal  minds.  Who 
can  estimate  the  amount  of  sin  and  wo  that  spring 
up  from  these  scattered  sheets,  as  the  seeds  of  vied ! 
Who  would  dare  take  upon  his  soul  the  responsi- 
bility of  this  earth-wide  ruin,  and  go  ■wdth  it  to  the 
bar  of  God ! 

In  order  to  add  force  to  the  remarks  which  follow, 
the  following  opinions  of  the  wdse  and  good,  upon 
this  subject  of  novel  reading,  are  commended  to  the 
reader’s  consideration. 

Said  John  Foster,  “ Viewing  the  vast  route  of 
novels  as  they  are,  I do  think  they  do  incalculable 
mischief.  I wish  we  could  collect  them  aU  together, 
and  make  one  vast  fire  of  them ; I should  exult  to 
see  the  smoke  of  them  ascend  like  that  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  ; the  judgment  would  be  as  just.” 

Dr.  Goldsmith,  who  was  Itimself  the  author  of  a 


FAMILY  BEADING. 


231 


novel,  gave  the  following  advice  to  his  brother. 
“ Above  all  things  never  touch  a novel  or  romance. 
How  delusive,  how  destructive  are  those  features  of 
consummate  bliss ! They  teach  the  youthful  mind 
to  sigh  after  beauty  and  happiness,  that  never 
existed ; to  despise  the  little  good  that  fortune  has 
mixed  in  our  cup,  by  expecting  more  than  she  ever 
gave  ; and,  in  general,  take  the  word  of  a man  who 
has  seen  the  world,  and  studied  it  more  by  experi- 
ence than  by  precept,  — take  my  word  for  it,  I say, 
such  books  teach  us  very  little  of  the  world.” 

Hannah  More  wrote,  — “ Many  works  of  fiction 
may  be  read  with  safety,  some  even  with  profit ; but 
the  constant  familiarity  even  with  such  as  are  not  ex- 
ceptionable in  themselves,  relaxes  the  mind  that  wants 
hardening,  dissolves  the  heart  that  wants  fortifying, 
stns  the  imagination  which  wants  quieting,  irritates 
the  passions  which  want  calming,  and  above  all,  dis- 
inclines and  disqualifies  for  active  virtues  and  for 
spiritual  exercises.  The  habitual  indulgence  in  such 
reading  is  a silent,  mining  mischief.” 

The  great  and  good  Wiiberforce  said  of  the 
Waverley  Novels:  “I  am  always  sorry  that  they 
should  have  so  little  moral  or  religious  object.  They 
remind  me  of  a giant,  spending  his  strength  in  crack- 
ing nuts.  I would  rather  go  to  render  up  my  ac- 
count at  the  last  day,  carrying  up  with  me  the 
Shepherd  of  Salisbury  Plain,  than  bearing  the  load 
of  all  these  volumes,  full  as  they  are  of  genius.” 

Says  Coleridge : “ It  cannot  but  be  injurious  to 
the  human  mind  never  to  be  called  into  effort;  the 
habit  of  receiving  pleasure  without  any  exertion  of 
thought,  by  the  mere  excitement  of  mind  and  sensi- 


232 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


bility,  may  be  justly  ranked  among  the  worst  effects 
of  habitual  novel  reading.  Like  idle  morning  visi- 
tors, the  brisk  and  breathless  periods  hurry  in  and 
hurry  off  in  quick  and  profitless  succession;  each 
indeed,  for  the  moment  of  its  stay,  prevents  the  pain 
of  vacancy  while  it  indulges  the  love  of  sloth ; but 
altogether  they  leave  the  mistress  of  the  house  — the 
soul  I mean  — flat  and  exhausted,  incapable  of  at- 
tending to  her  own  concerns,  and  unfitted  for  the 
conversation  of  more  rational  guests.” 

Pollock  says  : — 

“ A novel  was  a book 

Tliree-volumed  and  once  read,  and  oft  crammed  full 
Of  poisonous  error,  blackening  every  page ; 

And  oftener  still  of  trifling,  second-hand 
Remark,  and  old,  diseased,  putrid  thought ; 

And  miserable  incident,  at  war  with 
Nature,  with  itself  and  truth  at  war. 

Yet  charming  still  the  greedy  reader  on, 

Till  done.  He  tried  to  recollect  his  thoughts, 

And  nothing  found  but  dreamy  emptiness, 

These,  like  ephemera,  spring  in  a day, 

From  lean  and  shallow  soiled  brains  of  sand. 

And  in  a day  expired.” 

The  following  facts  show  that  the  above  senti- 
ments are  not  extravagant  or  erroneous.  The  first 
exhibits  the  injurious  influence  of  one  kind  of  fiction, 
which  is  regarded  comparatively  unexceptionable. 
It  shows  the  power  of  a single  book  to  mould  the 
whole  man. 

Some  more  than  three  hmtdred  years  before  Christ, 
a precocious  and  ambitious  youth  was  tutored  in  the 
school  of  Aristotle.  The  study  which  won  his  inter- 


FAMILY  BEADING. 


233 


est  above  all  others,  was  the  Iliad  of  Homer ; a work 
of  fiction,  which  the  youth  himself  styled  “ a porta- 
ble treasure  of  military  knowledge.”  It  was  his 
daily  companion,  and  his  glowing  imagination  lived 
constantly  in  the  scenes  it  portrayed.  And  when,  in 
the  twentieth  year  of  his  age,  he  ascended  the  impe- 
rial throne,  he  was  wont  to  sleep  with  his  volume 
under  his  pillow,  by  the  side  of  his  sword ; a fact 
which  strikingly  illustrates  the  powerful  influence 
that  work  of  epic  fiction  had  in  creating  in  his  heart 
a reckless  love  of  victory,  to  gratify  which  the  blood 
of  unoffending  mfllions  was  poured  out  like  water. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  Alexander’s  tendencies 
of  mind  and  heart,  or  of  the  warlike  preparations  of 
the  age  in  which  he  lived,  it  must  be  conceded  that 
the  Eiad  of  Homer  had  not  a little  influence  in  mak- 
ing him  a man  of  unholy  ambition,  violence,  and 
blood.  It  wrought  upon  his  imagination,  nurtured 
his  passions  into  a lusty  growth,  and  flattered  him 
mth  the  futm’e  fame  of  “ conqueror  of  the  world.” 

But  books  of  far  more  pernicious  tendency,  fol- 
lowed by  a broader  wave  of  wo,  now  accumulate  in 
depositories,  and  on  parlor  tables.  Here  and  there  is 
heard  from  the  lips  of  outspeaking  guilt,  or  bm'sting 
from  the  anguished  heart,  the  confession  of  the  ruin 
they  achieve.  Said  a loving  father,  testifying  in  the 
excitement  of  open  com-t  against  his  daughter,  who 
had  brought  ruin  upon  herself,  wretchedness  upon 
her  family,  and  despair  and  death  upon  the  man  of 
her  betrothal:  “K  my  daughter  has  been  in  an  un- 
happy state  of  mind,  I attribute  it  to  the  impure 
works  of  Eugene  Sue  and  Bulwer.”  To  those  soul- 
bewitching  and  lust-pampering  authors  he  could 
20* 


234 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


trace  the  record  of  her  shame.  A mind  and  heart, 
made  to  be  nourished  by  angels’  food,  and  to  expand 
forever  with  seraphic  joys,  is  fed  upon  the  ashy  ap- 
ples of  Sodom,  and  consumed  by  the  undying  worm 
of  remorse ! 

Within  two  years,  our  public  journals  reported  the 
suicide  of  three  accomphshed  persons  in  a single 
county,  and  the  following  was  the  verdict  of  the  cor- 
oner’s inquest : “ Cause,  novel  reading.” 

Somewhere  I have  recently  read  the  following, 
which  I give  in  my  own  language.  The  shades  of 
evening  darkened  the  chamber  with  more  sombre 

and  solemn  hues  than  ever,  for  young  H was 

struck  with  death.  The  scene  was  one  of  mental 
agony.  Ever  and  anon  the  ejaculation  burst  from 
his  tortured  heart,  '•‘■too  late  ! ” “ too  late  I ” He  had 
been  a wanderer  long ; but  driven  by  the  premoni- 
tions of  approaching  death,  he  had  just  returned  to 
his  father’s  house  to  die.  While  a “ fearful  looldng 
for  of  judgment”  shook  his  frame,  the  broken-hearted 
parents  endeavored  to  point  him  to  the  Lamb  of 
God.  But  all  in  vain.  He  went  down  to  the  grave 
exclaiming,  “ novel-reading  has  been  my  ruin  I ” — 
language  readily  understood  by  the  weeping  parents. 
For,  against  their  counsels,  he  had  been  a greedy 
novel  reader.  Before  he  reached  Ins  early  manhood, 
he  was  familiar  with  Bulwer,  Maryatt,  Sue,  and  oth- 
ers. He  had  no  taste  for  other  reading.  He  had  no 
relish  for  a life  of  quiet  and  usefulness.  He  longed 
to  be  an  adventurer,  and  seek  his  fortune  away  from 
his  home.  With  his  imagination  unduly  wrought 
upon  by  exciting  fiction,  and  his  passions  greatly 
inflamed,  he  left  home  without  the  knowledge  of  his 


FAMILY  BEADING. 


235 


parents,  plunged  deeply  into  vice,  and  returned  with 
shattered  constitution  to  die  in  terrible  agony,  with 
the  exclamation  on  his  hp,  “ novel  reading  has  been 
my  ruin  I ” 

The  destructive  tendency  of  novel  reading  is  not 
yet  fully  appreciated.  Thousands  who  cry  out 
against  visiting  the  theatre,  the  gaming  saloon,  and 
the  brothel,  have  not  inquh-ed  how  many  were  made 
the  patrons  of  these  abodes  of  infamy  by  the  fas- 
cinating, impure  works  of  fiction.  The  man  who 
walks  at  midnight  in  the  “ path  that  takes  hold  on 
hell,”  was  there  in  imagination  long  before,  when  his 
passions  kindled  over  the  obscene  romance.  How 
many  have  first  imbibed  a taste  for  the  grossest 
forms  of  vice ; how  many  were  really  made  the 
slaves  of  burning  passion  by  the  unchaste  novel,  we 
shall  not  know  until  the  judgment-day.  The  work 
of  moral  ruin  is  effected  when  principle  is  mentally 
forsaken,  and  the  mind  begins  to  entertain  deeds  of 
impurity  and  guilt  with  favor.  In  hosts  of  de- 
bauchees and  criminals,  that  fearful  crisis,  the  turn- 
ing-point of  character,  may  have  been  when  the 
mind  was  wrapt  with  the  witchery  of  a novel. 

It  may  be  said,  “ such  facts  as  the  above  are  rare.” 
Let  this  class  of  objectors  follow  us,  as  we  attempt 
to  delineate  the  nature  of  novels,  and  decide  whether 
their  legitimate  tendency  is  not  to  multiply  such  ex- 
amples of  moral  ruin. 

The  very  name,  novel,  from  novus,  signifying  new, 
denotes  the  appeal  they  make  to  the  principle  of 
curiosity,  and  the  love  of  novelty,  which  belong  to 
human  nature.  Men  are  usually  fond  of  new’  things, 
and  curious  to  pry  into  matters  even  beyond  polite- 


236 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


ness  and  reason.  Were  an  individual  to  stop  in  the 
street,  and  point  with  his  finger  in  a given  direction, 
the  eye  of  every  beholder  would  eagerly  be  turned 
the  same  way,  and  possibly,  within  fifteen  minutes, 
he  would  be  surrounded  with  a crowd  of  eager 
gazers,  drawn  together  by  the  principle  of  which  we 
speak.  Fiction  acts  powerfully  upon  this  character- 
istic of  human  nature,  and  leads  the  novel  reader, 
charmed  by  the  consummate  plot  and  brilUant  scene, 
to  neglect  his  duties,  and  forego  his  nightly  rest,  that 
he  may  see  the  ravishing  end.  It  is  this  which  ren- 
ders the  novel  so  fearfully  bewitching,  and  wnraps  the 
mind  in  such  a speU  of  dangerous  delight. 

The  novel  decks  vice  in  attractive  garb.  Instead 
of  presenting  it  in  its  native  ugliness,  a loathsome, 
vile,  putrescent,  stenchful  sore  upon  humanity,  it 
robes  it  in  silks  and  satins,  gilds  it  with  resplendent 
jewelry,  seats  it  in  splendid  parlors,  and  sends  it  out 
in  a coach  and  fom’.  As  many  a debauchee,  and 
many  a shrew  has  covered  with  rich  apparel  a soul 
that  festers  with  comiption,  and  moved  in  circles 
which  otherwise  would  have  discarded  them ; so  the 
vile  hero  of  some  polished  novel  is  often  garnished 
over  as  a whited  sepulchre  to  pass  with  readers  for 
what  he  is  not.  Bad  men  are  often  praised,  or  their 
vicious  deeds  excused,  and  the  good  placed  in  cir- 
cumstances to  excite  derision,  or,  at  least,  to  appear 
unwinning.  This  is  true  of  some  of  the  novels 
which  Scott  has  penned.  The  good  are  sometimes 
made  the  butt  of  ridicule,  and  the  bad  the  subjects 
of  unqualified  praise.  Virtue  is  often  unsuccessful, 
while  vice  is  the  child  of  fortune. 

This  kind  of  fiction  magnifies  wealth,  pleasure. 


FAMILY  READING. 


237 


fame,  beauty,  chivaby,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of 
fashionable  life.  It  gives  to  them  a prominence 
which  is  wholly  unwarrantable.  It  would  cause  the 
youthful  reader  to  feel  that  nought  is  so  desirable  as 
“ gold  and  high  life.”  It  portrays  the  home  of  the 
rich  in  such  glowing  colors  as  make  it  weUnigh 
the  only  Eden  to  be  desired.  This  is  true  of  the 
works  of  Bulwer. 

A class  of  novels,  or  romances,  as  they  might  more 
properly  be  called,  are  of  the  most  polluting  and  dis- 
gusting character.  They  are  designed  to  pander  to 
the  lowest  passions  of  the  guiltiest  class.  Scenes  of 
gross  licentiousness,  and  imagery  the  most  revolting 
to  the  pure  in  heart,  are  unblushingly  introduced. 
All  that  is  vile,  filthy,  and  demoralizing  is  clothed 
with  the  drapery  of  flowing  style,  and  made  capti- 
vating by  the  charms  of  mellifluous  language.  What- 
ever isolated  qualities  of  an  unexceptionable  nature 
may  characterize  the  works  of  Fielding,  the  occa- 
sional sti'okes  of  obscenity  which  meet  the  eye 
ought  to  be  deemed  sufficient  excuse  for  banishing 
them  from  the  pale  of  decent  society. 

In  a word,  novels  are  characterized  by  great  ex- 
aggeration. Men  and  things,  with  skilful  colorings, 
appear  better  than  they  are.  Human  nature  is  pre- 
sented under  false  phases.  There  are  no  such  fiiends 
and  lovers,  no  such  sons  and  daughters,  no  such  hus- 
bands and  wives,  no  such  heroes  and  patriots.  There 
are  no  homes  so  delightful,  no  hearts  so  faithful,  and 
no  inheritances  so  alluring.  It  is  a scene  of  fairies 
and  gnomes,  of  splendid  palaces  and  visionary  regalia. 
Life  presents  no  such  scenes  of  enrapturing  bliss, 


238 


LTPE  AT  THE  FERESIDE. 


no  such  examples  of  thrilling  adventure.  There  is 
no  such  beauty  in  the  whole  range  of  the  beautiful. 
There  is  no  such  chivalry  in  the  field  of  human  ex- 
ploit. There  is  no  such  pleasure  in  the  abodes  of 
princely  fortune  or  regal  splendor.  There  are  no 
such  glowing  landscapes  on  the  face  of  nature  ; no 
such  painted  hills  and  sequestered  vales ; no  such 
sparkling  fountains  and  crystal  lakes ; no  such  fra- 
grant flowers  and  delicious  fi'uits  ; no  such  shady  bow- 
ers and  blooming  gardens  ; no  such  stars,  suns,  clouds, 
storms,  or  thunderbolts  ; no  such  days  of  summer 
mildness  nor  vernal  sweetness.  Every  thing  ap- 
pears in  too  glowing  colors.  The  youth,  whose  as- 
pirations are  determined  by  such  a view  of  fife,  wifi 
be  harrowed  by  discontent  amid  its  stern  realities. 
The  halo  of  fight  which  gilds  the  pages  of  such  fic- 
tion is  but  the  deceitful  glow  of  the  ignis  fatuus,  that 
lures  the  unwary  into  the  deep  ravines  and  morasses 
of  sin.  Such  novels,  at  best,  have  none  of  the  pure 
elements  of  Christian  productions,  and  are  but  the 
fabled  poison  of  Cnee,  proffered  in  a golden  goblet 
to  aUay  the  fears,  while  they  speed  the  work  of  de- 
struction. 

The  nature  of  this  class  of  writings  might  be 
learned  from  the  character  of  the  persons  who 
greedily  devour  them.  They  are  not  the  grave  and 
serious,  the  intellectual  and  useful,  the  lovers  of  God 
more  than  the  lovers  of  pleasure.  They  are  the  gay 
and  thoughtless,  the  fight  and  pleasure-loving.  They 
are  the  patrons  of  dancing  assemblies  and  theatres, 
the  devotees  of  the  god  of  this  world,  worshippers  at 
the  shrine  of  mammon,  — the  deluded  multitude,  who 


FAMILY  READING. 


239 


bend  the  knee  to  Baal  and  Ashtaroth.  This  is  the 
class  who  devour  the  novel  and  romance  with  per- 
verted taste,  empty  brain,  and  worldly  heart. 

It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  novels  ruin,  as  before 
described.  Their  legitimate  influence  upon  the 
reader  is  inevitably  as  follows. 

They  make  their  readers  light  and  trifling.  Read- 
ers exhibit  the  fruits  of  such  useless  reading  in  light 
and  senseless  conversation,  devoted  to  themes  of 
little  intrinsic  merit,  — dress,  manners,  fashion,  ap- 
pearances, and  kindred  matters,  — nothing  nobler, 
more  dignified,  or  intellectual.  In  their  conduct,  the 
fruits  are  not  less  apparent.  Where  the  gayest  and 
lightest  things  are  witnessed,  there  they  love  to  be. 
In  the  places  they  visit,  the  airs  they  assume,  and 
the  dress  they  wear,  they  show  that  their  minds  have 
communed  with  weak  and  useless  books.  Even  the 
professed  Christian,  who  should  allow  himself  to 
read  such  works  of  fiction  to  a considerable  extent, 
would  experience  the  same  disastrous  results  in  his 
chilled  and  icy  affections,’  his  ardent  love  of  the 
world,  and  his  lack  of  interest  in  aU.  that  pertains  to 
the  kingdom  of  Christ.  He  would  become  a living 
disgrace  to  the  cause  which  he  has  espoused,  — a 
withered  branch,  to  be  severed  from  the  fruitful 
vine,  — a barren  fig-tree  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord. 

Novels  create  a disrelish  for  useful  religious  read- 
ing. They  accustom  the  mind  to  read  without 
thought  or  reflection.  Coleridge  divides  readers 
into  four  classes.  “ The  first,”  he  says,  “ may  be 
compared  to  an  hour-glass,  their  reading  being  as 
the  sand;  it  runs  in,  and  it  runs  out,  and  leaves 
not  a vestige  behind.  A second  class  resembles  a 


240 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


sponge,  which  imbibes  every  thing,  and  returns  it 
merely  in  the  same  state,  only  a httle  dirtier.  A 
third  class  is  like  a jeUy-bag,  which  allows  all  that  is 
pure  to  pass  away,  and  retains  only  the  refuse  and 
the  dregs.  The  fourth  class  may  be  compared  to 
the  slave  in  the  diamond  mines  in  Golconda,  who, 
casting  aside  aU  that  is  worthless,  preserves  only  the 
pure  gem.”  Novel  readers  belong  to  the  first  class. 
There  is  nothing  in  what  they  read  to  stimulate  the 
intellectual  faculties.  Novels  form  the  habit  of  su- 
perficiality. They  destroy  a taste  for  scientific  and 
historical  works.  The  latter  become  tame,  dry,  and 
painfuUy  uninteresting.  In  fact,  the  great  mass  of 
novel  readers  do  not  profess  to  be  reading  for  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge  or  mental  discipline.  In- 
vestigation, research,  study,  is  not  their  object.  The 
result  is,  that  every  faculty  of  the  mind  is  dwarfed 
except  the  imagination,  which  is  unduly  excited. 
StUl  more  pernicious  is  the  influence  of  novels  in 
destroying  a taste  for  religious  books.  He  who  is 
fond  of  this  kind  of  fiction  is  not  much  in  love  with 
the  truth.  Says  Dr.  Hawes : “ No  habitual  reader 
of  novels  can  love  the  Bible,  or  any  other  book  that 
demands  thought,  or  inculcates  the  serious  duties  of 
fife.  He  dwells  in  a region  of  imagination,  where 
he  is  designated  with  the  plainness  and  simphcity 
of  truth,  — with  the  sober  realities  that  demand  his 
attention  as  a rational  and  immortal  being,  and  an 
accountable  subject  of  God’s  government.” 

Such  authors  as  Bunyan,  Flavel,  Doddridge,  and 
Edwards  have  few  attractions  for  him,  and  the  Bible 
— the  world’s  Book  of  books  — is  the  dullest,  prosi- 
est, most  mystic  volume  of  all. 


FAMILY  BEADING. 


241 


Novels  nullify  faithful,  pungent  preaching.  Novel 
readers  are  the  most  hopeless  class  of  hearers.  They 
have  httle  respect  for  sacred  things,  and  assume  the 
attitude  of  worshippers  with  little  love  for  the  undis- 
guised doctrines  of  the  Cross.  If  any  class  of  per- 
sons make  light  of  religious  things,  and  point  the 
finger  of  scorn  at  the  serious  and  inquiring,  it  is  this. 
If  any  class  retail  their  puns  and  jests  over  religious 
truth  and  ordinances,  it  is  the  one  in  question.  They 
may  love  to  listen  to  flowing  language  and  beautiful 
metaphor.  They  may  be  delighted  with  glowing 
eloquence  and  a fervid,  dashing  style  ; but  it  is  such 
delight  as  they  experience  in  witnessing  an  exhibi- 
tion of  fireworks  — shooting  rockets,  falling  stars, 
red  lights,  green  lights,  ^ind  blue  lights.  But  the 
faithful  proclamation  of  the  gospel  in  its  substance 
— “ The  Lord  reigneth,”  and  “ The  soul  that  sin- 
neth  it  shall  die  ” — is  insipid  and  offensive. 

Another  legitimate  consequence  of  novel  reading 
is,  it  cultivates  a false  sympathy.  We  are  told, 
indeed,  that  the  callous  in  heart  are  sometimes  made 
to  weep  over  the  novel ; and  this  is  adduced  as  evi- 
dence that  it  refines  the  feehngs  and  cultivates  the 
tender  sensibilities.  False  and  pernicious  reasoning! 
The  daughter  weeps  over  the  pathetic  novel ; and 
yet  leaves  the  bedside  of  her  languishing  mother  to 
complete  the  volume.  The  son  wets  every  page  of 
the  bewitching  book  with  his  tears ; and  yet  treats 
his  aged  parents  with  filial  neglect,  and  even  with 
heartless  overbearing.  The  reader  weeps  over  the 
imaginary  sufferings  of  some  stricken  family,  which 
forms  the  subject  of  the  novel,  while  he  turns  away 
with  unfeeling  heart  from  the  household  of  real 

21 


242 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


sufferers  not  a mile  from  his  door.  The  heart  of  the 
debauchee  is  deeply  wrought  upon  as  he  follows  the 
young  and  lovely  heroine  of  some  fine  romance, 
sought,  pursued,  and  ensnared  by  her  vile  seducers 
as  the  meek-eyed  gazelle  is  hunted  on  the  Eastern 
mountains ; while  yet,  with  awful  guilt  he  companies 
with  the  blushless  harlot,  and,  beneath  the  sable  cur- 
tains of  night,  takes  sin  enough  upon  his  soul  to 
destroy  it  in  hell. 

When  the  news  of  destitution  and  suffering,  of 
sickness  and  death,  spread  through  a neighborhood, 
who  are  the  first  to  yield  to  the  calls  of  humanity 
and  benevolence  ? Who  is  first  at  the  cot  of  the 
suffering  poor,  with  hands  full  of  substantial  aid? 
Who  is  first  at  the  couch  of  sickness,  willing  to 
spend  night’s  silent  watches  in  sleepless  devotion  to 
the  distressed  ? Who  is  fu'st  in  the  habitation  of 
mourning  to  sympathize  with  the  bereaved  and  ad- 
minister consolation  ? Is  it  the  novel  reader  ? the 
jtoung  woman  who  weeps  herself  to  sleep  at  mid- 
night over  the  alluring  work  of  fiction  ? Or  the 
young  man  who  reads  Scott  and  Bulwer  till  the  gray 
dawn  of  the  morning  bids  him  off  to  bed?  Are 
such  most  willing  to  watch  through  the  tardy  mght 
at  the  bedside  of  the  sick?  Not  they.  Test  it 
where  you  please,  the  individuals  whose  passions 
are  most  excited  by  the  novel  and  romance,  who 
have  the  most  tears  to  shed  over  works  of  fiction,  are 
the  least  wrought  upon  by  the  scenes  of  sorrow  and 
distress  which  miiltiply  in  every  neighborhood.  They 
feel  only  over  imaginary  wo.  The  living,  terrible 
reality  does  not  start  a tear  from  then  eyes. 

Nor  is  this  strange.  According  to  Abercrombie 


FAMILY  KEADING. 


243 


and  other  intellectual  philosophers,  this  is  a reason- 
able, unavoidable  result.  It  could  not  be  otherwise. 
When  any  of  the  benevolent  affections  are  called 
into  exercise,  in  order  to  develop  them  it  is  indispen- 
sable that  they  have  some  object  to  act  upon.  If  a 
Christian  reads  about  the  sad  condition  of  the  heathen 
world,  until  his  benevolent  feelings  are  aroused,  and 
this  is  repeated  again  and  again,  he  does  not  grow 
more  benevolent.  He  gradually  becomes  more  and 
more  steeled  in  heart  to  such  appeals  from  the  perish- 
ing, and  finally  he  can  read  such  records  with  very  little 
emotion.  But  if,  when  he  reads  and  awakens  benev- 
olent emotions  by  increasing  his.  missionary  knowl- 
edge, he  contributes  to  some  cause  which  aims  to 
relieve  such  moral  destitution,  then  he  grows  in  be- 
nevolent character.  His  benevolent  affections  have 
some  object  to  act  upon,  as  they  are  excited,  and  by 
acting  upon  it  are  made  to  wax  stronger  and  stronger. 
Thus  it  is  with  sufiering  in  all  its  forms.  He  who 
is  moved  to  pity  by  scenes  of  penury  and  distress, 
and  yet  does  not  allow  his  pity  to  act  upon  the 
sufferers  in  proffered  relief,  will  soon  be  unaffected 
by  all  such  sights.  But  if  to  the  seeing,  he  adds  the 
acting,  his  heart  will  grow  kinder  and  better. 

Now,  the  novel  reader  may  feel  and  weep  over 
some  well-executed  scene,  and  his  benevolence  be  in 
full  play,  but  there  are  really  no  objects  for  his  sym- 
pathies to  embrace,  since  they  are  all  imaginary. 
His  affections  are  awakened  only  to  sink  back  into 
a more  torpid  state.  A more  powerful  appeal  is 
necessary  to  arouse  them  the  second  time,  and  thus 
on  indefinitely.  He  feels,  without  being  required  to 
act,  until  feeling  becomes  extinct.  In  real  life  Ins 


244 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


sympathies  are  excited  by  scenes  of  adversity  to  act, 
and  therefore  they  do  not  perish,  but  survive  and 
strengthen. 

Such  are  some  of  the  sad  and  sure  consequences 
of  the  reading  of  that  kind  of  fiction  described.  We 
might  add,  that  to  read  these  wnritings  is  a waste  of 
time,  — that  precious  inheritance  which  gold  and 
pearls  cannot  purchase,  — 

“ That  stuff  that  life  is  made  of, 

And  which,  when  lost,  is  never  lost  alone. 

Because  it  carries  souls  upon  its  wings.” 

“ O time ! time ! ” exclaimed  the  dying  Altamont, 
“ how  art  thou  fled  forever.  A month ! oh  for  a 
single  week ! I ask  not  for  years,  though  an  age  is 
too  little  for  the  much  I have  to  do.”  Just  tribute 
of  a dying  man  to  the  value  of  time  ! The  estimate 
an  honest  heart  sets  upon  the  priceless  gift,  as  it 
vanishes  upon  the  borders  of  eternity  ! And  this  is 
worse  than  wasted  upon  the  pages  of  coiTupting 
fiction.  It  is  wrested  from  the  purpose  for  which  it 
was  bestowed,  — which  was  to  lay  up  a treasure  in 
the  skies,  — and  made  a swift  ■fitness  against  the 
soul  at  the  bar  of  God. 

It  is  also  a wanton  waste  of  property.  It  has 
been  estimated  that  novels  have  cost  the  people  of 
the  United  States,  during  the  last  five  years,  from 
twelve  to  fifteen  miUion  doUars.  This  sum,  expended 
in  the  improvement  of  the  arts,  would  cause  many 
a tax-payer  to  cry  out  against  lavish  expenditure. 
With  the  sum  expressed  in  the  larger  estimate,  we 
might  erect  five  thousand  beautiful  school-houses,  at 
an  expense  of  three  thousand  dollars  each,  and  thus 


FAMILY  READING. 


245 


furnish  ample  apartments  to  hundreds  of  promising 
youth,  assembled  for  intellectual  improvement.  Or 
it  would  furnish  the  asking  West,  the  present  year, 
the  vast  number  of  seventy-five  thousand  female 
teachers,  with  a salary  of  two  hundred  dollars  each, 
to  discipline  ignorant  and  destitute  children  for  be- 
coming intelligent  and  useful  citizens.  Or  with  it 
we  might  rear  three  thousand  houses  of  worship,  of 
commodious  dimensions  and  tasteful  architecture,  at 
an  expense  of  five  thousand  dollars  each,  where  the 
proclamation  of  truth  might  guide  many  a moral 
wanderer  to  the  Cross  of  Christ.  But  now  the  waste 
is  wanton  and  remediless.  No  one  receives  a good 
in  return  for  the  vast  expenditure.  Evil  is  the  only 
fruit  of  the  reckless  purchase. 

Summing  up  our  remarks,  we  say,  then,  that  novel 
reading  makes  no  one  wiser,  better,  or  happier. 
Admitting  that  it  tends  to  produce  no  injury,  since  it 
does  not  add  a tittle  to  wisdom,  goodness,  and  hap- 
piness, it  should  be  entirely  discarded.  There  is  no 
reasonable  excuse  in  persisting  in  an  exercise  so  use- 
less, when  the  world  is  full  of  books  which  will  both 
feed  the  mind  and  improve  the  heart.  There  is  alle- 
gory, fable,  narrative,  history,  biography.  There  are 
books  of  travels,  science,  and  the  arts,  almost  endless. 
Morality  and  religion  furnish  ample  libraries  of  rich 
and  varied  knowledge. 

There  may  be  transient  pleasure  in  the  perusal  of 
a novel ; but  it  soon  “palls  upon  the  sense.”  On 
the  other  hand,  there  are  numerous  works,  charac- 
terized by  genius  and  learning,  which  swell  the  sum 
total  of  pure  terrestrial  enjoyment.  A novel  does 
not  give  being  to  a simple,  pure,  and  noble  sentiment 
24* 


246 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKE3IDE. 


that  will  sweeten  the  sad  lot  of  sickness,  or  sustain 
the  spirit  in  the  hour  of  dissolution,  or  reheve  the 
terrible  retributions  of  the  Judgment-day.  But  the 
world  is  amply  supplied  with  books  which  are  suited 
to  be  the  bosom  companions  of  men  in  all  the  adver- 
sities of  life,  and  to  accompany  them  into  the  un- 
tried realities  of  eternity. 

There  is  a substance  sometimes  cast  upon  the 
shore  of  the  sea,  called  Medusa,  often  attractive 
to  the  eye  as  it  sparkles  in  the  rays  of  the  bla- 
zing sun.  It  appears  like  some  durable  work- 
manship, which  you  may  take  in  your  hand  to  bear 
away  to  a place  in  your  cabinet  of  natural  curiosi- 
ties. But  it  proves  to  be  a watery  pulp,  and  ere  you 
reach  your  residence  it  has  melted  away  from  your 
grasp,  and  all  that  is  left  of  the  ghttering  object  is  a 
worthless  shred  in  your  hand.  It  is  a fit  symbol  of 
the  most  polished  and  splendid  novel,  when  brought 
to  the  test  of  eternal  truth. 

Novel  reading  is  more  perilous  to  the  hopes  of  a 
family,  because  its  influence  is  exerted  upon  the 
young,  just  at  that  age  when  it  can  produce  the  sad- 
dest consequences.  If  a person  ever  becomes  a 
novel  reader,  it  is  usually  in ' youth  ; and,  becoming 
such  at  this  period  of  life,  he  seldom  controls  the 
taste  thus  early  imbibed.  It  is  the  mind  upon  which 
this  kind  of  reading  inflicts  an  injury,  and  a wound 
here  is  not  easily  healed.  A huge  gash  upon  the 
body  may  close  together,  and  scarcely  leave  a scar ; 
but  an  intellect  dwarfed  or  perverted  in  the  morning 
of  life  bears  the  blight  forever.  It  is  more  appaUing 
to  poison  the  mind  than  the  body.  The  arsenic  or 
alcohol,  which  poisons  the  physical,  is  less  terrible 


FAMILY  READING. 


247 


than  the  precept  or  principle  which  poisons  the  intel- 
lectual man.  For  a thought  or  sentiment,  pure  or 
pernicious,  is  the  seed  of  action  — the  very  germ  of 
character.  It  promises  to  live  longer,  and  struggle 
more  desperately  for  existence.  If  imbibed  in  youth, 
it  often  grows  to  the  most  prolific  harvest  in  age. 
Foster  has  said,  “ the  excesses  of  youth  are  so  many 
drafts  upon  age,  payable  about  thirty  years  after 
date.”  If  this  be  true,  as  it  certainly  is,  then  the  per- 
son whose  mind  is  Bulwerized  in  youth  by  exces- 
sive novel  reading  will  be  deficient  in  all  the  relations 
of  manhood  and  womanhood.  Such  an  injury  will 
be  likely  to  live  on,  and  bring  the  saddest  experience 
in  mature  years. 

This  subject  demands  the  prayerful  interest  of 
every  Christian  parent,  solicitous  for  the  salvation 
of  his  children.  Novel  readers,  as  we  have  seen,  are 
the  most  volatile  and  trifling  class  of  persons  in  any 
community,  — least  likely  to  be  reached  by  the  proc- 
lamation of  truth,  and  the  efforts  of  God’s  people. 
A novel  is  truth’s  antagonist,  — a foe  to  the  Bible,  — 
a syren  to  the  soul.  Consider,  then,  the  vast  num- 
ber of  novels  in  circulation,  within  “ arm’s  length  ” 
of  your  sons  and  daughters,  inviting  them  to  read, 
and  charming  them  away  from  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Estimate  the  mischief  which  may  be  wrought  upon 
their  morals,  and  the  ruin  perpetrated  upon  their 
deathless  souls,  by  this  corrupting  fiction,  which 
abounds  in  almost  every  village  and  city.  Realize, 
if  you  can,  the  nature  and  extent  of  this  evil,  as 
hindrance  to  your  Christian  counsel,  and  a call  for 
more  vigilant  and  persevering  Christian  effort.  No 
power,  save  that  which  Christians  seek  at  the  throne 


248 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


of  grace,  can  dissolve  the  silent  witchery  of  a novel, 
and  bring  the  soul  into  a blessed  union  with  Christ 
— the  power  of  the  living  God. 

Let  all  parents,  Christian  or  not,  be  discriminating 
in  the  selection  of  books  for  their  children.  Remem- 
ber that  in  furnishing  these,  you  are  blessing  or  poi- 
soning immortal  minds.  The  volumes  which  you 
deposit  in  the  book-case,  or  on  the  parlor  table,  are 
so  many  companions  for  your  offspring,  almost  sure 
to  instil  their  sentiments  into  their  yoimg  and  tender 
mmds.  How  watchful  you  are  in  respect  to  the  as- 
sociates of  yom  children ! How  ready  to  exclude 
the  vulgar,  the  profane,  the  vicious,  from  their  com- 
pany ! How  eager  to  select  choice  companions, 
whose  influence  shall  not  endanger  their  morals 
and  ruin  their  souls ! But  the  introduction  of  every 
book  into  your  family  is  bringing  home  a similar  in- 
fluence to  impress  your  offspring.  It  is  increasing 
the  circle  of  silent  associates,  the  more  insinuating 
and  powerful  because  of  their  silence.  A novel 
ought  not  to  find  a lodgement  in  a household.  A 
book  for  the  family  should  be  instructive,  abounding 
in  thought,  earnest,  useful,  and  pure. 


XI. 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


“ The  mother  in  her  oflSce,  holds  the  key 
Of  the  soul ; and  she  it  is  who  stamps  the  coin 
Of  character,  and  makes  the  being  who  wonld  be  a savage 
But  for  her  cares,  a Christian  man ! 

Then  crown  her  queen  of  the  world.” 

Old  Play. 


There  are  seasons  in  the  march  of  Providence, 
when  the  purposes  of  a wonder-working  God  seem 
rushing  to  a crisis.  The  events  of  ages  occur  in  a 
year,  and  the  developments  of  generations  are  per- 
fected in  a day.  Exalted  conceptions  are  suddenly 
evolved.  Great  enterprises  enlist  the  energies  of  the 
soul.  Opinion  battles  with  opinion.  Thought  kin- 
dles thought.  Invention  provokes  invention.  Re- 
form treads  upon  the  heel  of  reform.  Nations  are 
convulsed,  — governments  are  destroyed,  — thrones 
are  overturned.  The  excited  multitude  sigh  for 
change.  Liberty  struggles,  — winning  and  losing  ; 
and  truth  grapples  with  error,  in  the  triumph  of 
its  irresistible  might.  Such  seasons  are  crises  in  the 
thrilling  history  of  the  race ; landmarks,  reared  by 
the  Great  Proprietor  of  the  universe,  to  remind  our 
godless  race  of  his  power  and  glory  in  the  conquest 
of  this  wicked  world. 


(249) 


250 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


The  present  is  such  a crisis.  Never  before  have 
the  entire  masses  of  the  human  family  been  so  in- 
tensely excited.  Never  before  were  the  nations 
moved  by  questions  so  vast,  relating  to  their  ex- 
istence and  destiny.  Never  did  our  owm  land  — 
this  spot  of  freedom’s  birthright  — ring  with  such 
excitement.  More  than  ever,  we  are  a “ spectacle  ” 
to  a witnessing  world.  Nations  are  looking  on, 
breathless,  to  learn  whether  this  experiment  at  Re- 
publican institutions  wiU  be  exploded,  or  the  great 
questions  which  fearfully  agitate  the  country  be 
happily  adjusted,  and  its  former  tranquiUity  return. 
It  is  a time  of  c_ommingling  hopes  and  fears,  de- 
manding peculiar  msdom  for  the  present  and  pecu- 
liar preparation  for  the  future. 

Some  gaze  with  alarm  upon  the  scene  of  stidfe, 
and  conclude  that  the  world  is  making  a retrograde 
movement  from  bad  to  worse.  They  sigh  for  the 
“ golden  age  ” of  the  fathers  as  far  surpassing  in 
purity  and  promise  these  “ latter  days.”  “ There  is 
nothing  new  under  the  sun,”  they  seem  literally  to 
believe.  They  pride  themselves  in  fierce  demmci- 
ations  of  “new  things,”  as  if  the  earlier  ages  had 
exhausted  the  Eternal’s  storehouse  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge.  But  we  believe  in  a Law  of  Progress, — 
that  the  world  is  better  now  than  it  was  in  the  be- 
ginning, and  will  be  better  in  the  end  than  it  is  now. 
No  other  doctrine  receives  the  sanction  of  Divine 
truth.  No  other  awakens  a response  in  the  true 
Christian  heart.  It  requires  no  ingenious  argument 
to  prove  to  the  student  of  Pro\’idence,  that 
“ There  is  a frood  time  coming.” 

O C 

His  expectant  heart  is  anxious  for  its  promised  ad- 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


251 


vent.  And  yet  the  present  will  mould  the  future. 
For  thus  it  has  been  in  past  days.  One  generation 
has  sent  its  mighty  influence  down  to  determine  the 
character  of  the  next.  The  machinery  of  the  social 
compact  is  now  propelled  by  a current  of  mental  and 
moral  power,  whose  accumulated  might  outstrips 
that  of  former  ages,  because  it  has  been  fed,  along 
the  shores  of  time,  by  the  countless  tributaries  of 
eras  that  have  fled.  Each  age  has  transmitted  to  us 
some  special  agency  of  power.  One  has  sent  down 
the  art  of  printing ; another  the  invention  of  the 
compass ; and  another  the  discovery  of  the  steam 
power,  and  its  application  to  the  necessary  purposes 
of  life.  And  thus  on  through  unnumbered  agencies, 
which  enable  us  to  wield  such  a powerful  influence 
over  the  destiny  of  the  world.  Thus  from  the  pres- 
ent age  must  descend  a legacy  to  “ generations  yet 
unborn.”  As  our  blessings  exceed  those  of  former 
periods,  we  ought  to  leave  a richer  inheritance  to  the 
unrevealed,  mysterious  future.  Certain  it  is,  that 
elements  for  weal  or  woe,  — principles  to  bless  or 
curse,  — will  issue  from  the  present,  to  control,  in 
some  degree,  the  coming  eras. 

But,  in  order  to  comprehend  the  object  of  this 
essay,  we  need  to  regard  more  particularly  the  lead- 
ing characteristics  of  the  age.  He  alone  can 
achieve  much  for  the  good  of  his  race  who  stu- 
diously watches  the  tide  of  human  affairs.  The 
close  observer  of  Providence  only  perceives  there  is 
“a  time  to  every  purpose,”  and  accordingly  avails 
himself  of  present  advantages  to  secure  future  ends. 
Mark,  then,  some  of  the  leading  characteristics  of 
the  age. 


252 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Progress  is  the  universal  watchword.  In  civU, 
literary,  and  religious  institutions  there  is  unwonted 
effort  at  improvement.  Old  forms  of  government 
are  becoming  powerless.  Their  unfitness  to  advance 
a people  in  the  scale  of  civilization  is  deeply  felt. 
Old  systems  of  education  are  fast  falling  into  disuse, 
and  new  ones  are  adopted.  The  schoolmaster  is 
already  abroad,  with  his  new  facilities  and  improve- 
ments to  instruct,  and  “ the  common  people  hear 
him  gladly.”  In  short,  the  multiplied  and  startling 
discoveries  and  inventions  of  the  age,  both  in  art 
and  science,  indicate  the  rapid  progress  of  the  race. 

Disorder  reigns.  Few  nations  are  free  from  in- 
ternal conflict.  Divisions  and  party  factions  roll 
billows  of  passion.  Great  questions  are  agitating 
the  political  world.  Not  only  the  influential  and  the 
learned  in  the  seats  of  authority,  but  the  masses  of 
the  “ common  people,”  participate  in  the  wonderful 
movements. 

Confidence  in  political  organization  is  shaken. 
Multitudes  feel  that  the  needful  elements,  and  men 
of  integrity  are  wanting.  Hence  the  efforts  at  re- 
organization in  the  “ body  politic,”  and  the  loud 
clamor  for  change. 

Temptations,  various  and  alluring,  throng  the  fleet- 
ing hours.  The  agencies  of  moral  ruin  are  numerous. 
Vice  has  more  martyrs  than  virtue.  On  the  right 
hand  and  left,  the  high  and  low,  the  rich  and  poor, 
the  learned  and  unlearned,  fall;  and  virtue  sighs 
over  the  vast  destruction. 

Benevolence  invites  to  an  ample  field.  The  Gos- 
pel may  now  ride  in  triumph  over  the  world’s  ■wide 
domain.  Nations,  long  hostile  to  its  spreading 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


253 


power,  unbar  their  gates,  and  hail  its  coming.  Per- 
ishing millions  lift  up  their  voices  for  the  heavenly 
boon,  — they  invite,  they  implore,  they  plead.  The 
church  may  build  her  altars  on  Northern  bluffs, 
gather  her  chosen  bands  on  Southern  plains,  plant 
her  banner  on  Eastern  hills,  and  burn  her  purest 
incense  in  the  Western  valley.  God  bids  her  rise 
in  the  strength  of  the  Redeemer,  and  take  “the 
heathen  for  her  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts 
of  the  earth  for  her  possession.” 

With  such  a view  of  the  present,  we  cannot  fail  to 
anticipate  a future  of  surpassing  interest.  The  most 
startling  scenes  of  Providence  are  probably  yet  to 
be.  The  most  thrilling  history  of  human  life  is  yet 
unwritten.  The  mightiest  overturnings  in  the  march 
of  truth  are  yet  to  burst  upon  our  view.  For  such 
a crisis,  men  of  peculiar  wisdom  and  power,  of  grasp- 
ing talent  and  burning  patriotism,  are  needed. 
God’s  “ set  time  ” for  the  training  of  such  a band 
has  come.  Whence  shall  they  be  gathered  ? Whith- 
er shall  we  look  for  men  efficient  for  such  a crisis? 
To  whom  shall  we  appeal  ? 

Our  statesmen,  our  ministers  of  justice  and  re- 
ligion, and  the  instructors  of  our  youth,  may  accom- 
plish much;  but  the  mothers  of  our  land  may 
achieve  yet  more.  To  them  we  appeal.  In  a crit- 
ical period  of  the  French  History,  Napoleon  Bona- 
parte said  to  Madame  Campan : “ The  old  systems 
of  education  are  worth  nothing.  What  is  wanted 
for  the  proper  training  of  young  persons  in  France  ? ” 
With  emphasis,  she  replied,  “ Mothers  ! ” The 
thought  was  original  and  forcible  to  the  Emperor, 


254 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


and  he  said,  “ Behold,  then,  an  entire  system  of 
education ! You  must  make  mothers  that  know 
how  to  train  their  children.”  Not  less  earnest  is  the 
appeal  of  the  present  era  to  mothers.  With  charac- 
teristic conciseness,  we  might  reply  to  the  inquiry. 
What  is  most  needed  in  the  present  crisis  of  human 
history  ? Mothers ! We  need  good  men  to  plan, 
to  counsel,  to  execute.  One  has  said  with  truth, 
“ Good  professors  can  make  good  scholars,  but  good 
mothers  alone  can  make  good  menP 

Mothers ! Be  not  surprised,  that  in  this  intensely 
interesting  age  of  the  World,  our  appeal  is  to  you. 
True,  such  an  appeal  may  awaken  in  your  hearts  a 
sense  of  fearful  responsibility ; but  it  also  inspires 
with  the  thought  of  blessings  to  the  race,  and  reward 
in  the  skies.  AVhen  we  reflect,  that  in  our  favored 
land  there  are  three  million  of  mothers  having 
under  their  charge,  beside  their  older  children,  three 
hundred  thousand  infants,  whose  tender  minds  are 
to  be  moulded  by  a mother’s  plastic  hand,  and 
quenchless  love ; and  when  we  consider,  that  from 
this  band  of  infants  are  to  come  our  future  judges, 
senators,  statesmen,  ministers,  and  rulers,  and  that  in 
almost  every  instance,  “ the  boy  is  father  of  the  man,” 
we  cannot  suppress  the  feeling,  that  the  present  is 
the  era  for  viothers. 

The  mother  is  now  nursing  at  her  breast  the  gi- 
gantic spirit  which  will  hold  the  reins  of  future  gov- 
ernment, and  control  the  elements  of  political  faction 
in  that  stormier  period  when  the  battle  with  “ a 
nation’s  crying  sins  ” waxes  hotter  and  hotter. 
Could  mothers,  at  the  cradle  of  helpless  infancy. 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


255 


Kft  the  veil,  and  look  in  upon  the  scenes  of  the  mo- 
mentous future,  and  get  one  comprehensive  view  of 
the  responsibilities  their  sons  may  sustain  in  its 
unwritten  history,  their  souls  would  be  fired  with  a 
patriotism  that  would  lay  the  child  upon  the  altar 
of  his  country,  and  a Christian  devotion  that  would 
make  him  an  offering  on  the  altar  of  his  God.  Yes  ; 
to  them  God  has  committed,  in  a measure,  the  des- 
tiny of  the  world.  Around  that  cradle  cluster  the 
hopes  and  fears  of  an  anxious  nation.  From  that 
throbbing  breast  flows  the  milk  of  our  country’s  weal 
or  woe.  Home  is  their  ample  field  of  exploits,  — a 
seat  of  power  and  sacred  influence  more  august  than 
that  of  legislative  hall ; and  love  is  their  conquering 
instrument,  more  mighty  than  deeds  of  honored 
senates,  or  the  thunder  of  arms.  Thus  sang  one 
of  the  sweetest  singers  of  the  female  sex,  as  she 
proclaimed  this  truth  in  strains  of  charming  min- 
strelsy : — 

“ In  her  own  place  the  hearth  beside, 

The  patriot’s  heart  to  cheer. 

The  young,  unfolding  mind  to  guide, 

, The  future  sage  to  rear ; 

Where  sleeps  the  cradled  infant  fair. 

To  watch  with  love  and  kneel  in  prayer. 

Cheer  each  sad  soul  with  pity’s  smile. 

And  frown  on  every  latent  wile 
That  threats  the  pure,  domestic  shade. 

Sister  — so  best  our  life  shall  aid 
The  land  we  love.”  * 

We  have  said,  that  men  of  peculiar  talents,  wis- 


*■  Mrs.  Sigourney. 


256 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


dom,  and  power  are  demanded  by  the  age.  Let  us 
glance  at  some  of  the  agencies  required. 

Men  are  needed  who  are  qualified  to  pull  down, 
and  to  build  up.  K aU  the  Scriptures  reveal  con- 
cerning the  future  spread  of  the  Gospel,  and  the 
universal  reign  of  truth  and  righteousness,  shall 
come  to  pass,  then  much  of  this  work  remains  to  be 
done.  Old  things  must  pass  away,  and  all  things 
become  new.  Upon  the  ruins  of  much  which  now 
meets  the  eye  must  rise  that  spiritual  structure  to 
the  praise  of  God,  whose  materials  are  “ cut  out  of 
the  mountain  without  hands.”  The  spirit  of  reform 
to  which  we  have  referred  assures  us,  that  this  work 
of  pulling  down  and  building  up  has  commenced 
with  earnestness.  In  the  strife  and  tumult  of  nations, 
we  hear  the  sound  of  saw  and  hammer.  In  the 
shock  of  shattered  kingdoms,  we  hear  the  crash  of 
falling  timbers.  The  shoutings  of  our  Zion,  march- 
ing from  conquest  to  conquest,  are  but  the  joyful 
acclamations  of  the  workmen  as  they  lift  one  stone 
upon  another  in  the  rising  fabric.  But,  in  the  stu- 
pendous work  too  many  are  engaged  whose  only 
talent  is  for  pulling  down.  This  is  scarcely  half 
the  work  of  reform  ; for  it  requires  more  talent  to 
build  up  than  to  pull  down.  He  is  but  a half  re- 
former who  is  able  to  destroy,  but  not  to  create. 
Small  minds  can  heap  a pile  of  ruins ; but  talent 
only  can  rear  a comely  structure  upon  the  smoulder- 
ing ashes.  Looking  over  the  face-  of  nations  to-day, 
our  eyes  rest  upon  numerous  scenes  of  ruin,  upon 
which  no  enduring  fabric  has  begun  to  rise.  France 
and  Italy  have  their  pseudo  reformers  in  swai-ming 
numbers.  Enough  have  talent  for  pulling  down, 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


257 


but  “ few  and  far  between  as  angels’  visits,”  are  the 
men  to  build.  Those  nations  bleed  for  want  of 
true  reformers,  with  power  to  remove  the  ruins,  and 
lay  deep  and  strong  foundations  for  the  future.  The 
same  is  true,  though  in  a less  degree,  of  our  own 
highly  favored  land.  We  need  the  men  who  can 
create,  rear,  and  fashion  in  fair  proportion  where 
others  have  demolished.  Reformers  need  to  be 
formed ; not  amid  the  pressing  duties  of  ripened  ^ge, 
for  often  there  they  need  to  be  reformed ; but  in  the 
tender  years  of  childhood  and  youth,  when  a mother’s 
sldll  and  love  may  mould  the  spirit  for  deeds  of  god- 
like charity. 

Public  men  of  master  minds  and  tried  religious 
principle  are  needed.  We  have  reached  a crisis, 
(and  another  more  important  is  approaching,)  when 
party  factions  should  lose  their  hold  upon  the  human 
heart.  Interests  too  dear  for  wanton  sacrifice  are 
perilled  by  such  devotion  to  party  schemes.  We 
need  a nobler  patriotism,  purer  philanthropy,  to  bear 
the  ark  of  our  country’s  hopes.  We  need  men  who 
love  the  nation  more,  and  official  badges  less.  Long 
enough  our  men  have  “ wanted  offices,”  — now,  our 
“ offices  want  men.”  For  want  of  these,  the  nation 
suffers.  For  want  of  these,  the  world  is  bleeding. 
Long  have  public  offices  conferred  dignity  upon  men. 
Now  the  nation  pleads  for  men,  great  and  good 
enough  to  confer  dignity  upon  its  offices.  We  do 
not  say  there  are  no  public  men  of  the  class  we 
need ; but  we  suffer  for  want  of  more. 

Men  of  grasping  and  powerful  intellects  are  needed 
to  compass  the  intricate  questions  which  agitate  the 
nations.  Inferior  minds  are  not  able  now,  and  they 
22  * 


258 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


will  be  still  less  able  as  the  conflict  grows,  to  throw 
themselves  into  the  breach,  and  control  the  warring 
elements.  Keen  discrimination,  comprehensive  views, 
far-reaching  foresight,  and  quenchless  zeal,  are  need- 
ful qualities  in  a leading  spirit  of  this  and  future 
ages.  But  more  important  is  a firm  adherence  to 
truth  and  right.  Religious  principle,  disciphned  and 
deeply  rooted  in  the  soul,  can  alone  preserve  from 
the  prejudice  of  personal  feehng,  and  the  seductions 
of  the  world.  In  an  age  so  exciting  as  the  present, 
and  as  the  future  promises  to  be,  we  need  public 
men,  whose  determination  to  abide  by  the  rule  of 
perfect  honesty  is  equalled  only  by  their  courage  to 
maintain  it.  We  must  have  men  who  will  prefer 
hunger  and  nakedness,  exile  and  obscurity,  to  the 
reputation  of  sacrificing  religious  principle  for  per- 
sonal einolument.  “ What,”  says  an  eloquent  writer, 
“ are  palaces  and  equipages  ; what  though  a man 
could  cover  a continent  with  his  title  deeds,  or  an 
ocean  with  his  commerce,  compared  with  conscious 
rectitude ; with  a face  which  never  turns  pale  at  the 
accuser’s  voice  ; with  a bosom  that  never  throbs  at 
the  fear  of  exposure ; with  a heart  that  might  be 
turned  inside  out  and  discover  no  stain  of  dishonor  ? ” 
Such  are  the  men  we  need,  — the  trained,  and  the 
tried. 

Citizens  of  enlarged  benevolence  are  required  on 
every  hand.  Loud  and  frequent  are  the  calls  for 
deeds  of  charity.  At  home  and  abroad,  there  are 
golden  opportunities  for  giving.  As  already  made 
to  appear,  no  age,  since  the  morning  stars  sang  to- 
gether, has  presented  so  many  encouragements  to 
beneficence.  The  numerous  facilities  for  reaching 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


259 


objects  of  charity  render  the  same  amount  of  effort 
more  powerful  than  in  any  age  of  the  past.  The 
child’s  penny  may  now  reach  a remoter  chme,  and 
tell  upon  a wider  field,  than  once  did  the  rich  man’s 
dollar.  The  age  thus  invites  to  cheerful  giving. 
Ye.t  every  benevolent  enterprise  of  the  present  day 
is  impeded  in  its  course  for  want  of  the  requisite 
pecuniary  aid.  Miihons  lift  an  imploring  voice  for 
help,  to  whom  there  is  given  no  cheering  response. 
Divine  Providence  flings  open  doors  for  the  church 
to  enter,  and  achieve  triumphant  victories ; but 
through  many,  for  want  of  benevolence,  she  does  not 
pass.-  We  need  men,  and  yet  shall  have  a greater 
need  of  them,  who  are  disciplined  from  childhood  for 
a large  benevolence,  — whose  sympathies  have  been 
taught  to  embrace  a world  of  sufferers,  and  who  ever 
put  less  value  upon  the  shining  dollar  in  the  pocket 
than  upon  a shining  grace  in  the  heart. 

Faithful  and  fearless  ministers  of  the  Gospel  are 
more  than  ever  demanded.  Every  year  appears  to 
bring  the  duties  of  their  profession  more  nearly  in 
contact  with  the  worldly  purposes  of  the  people  to 
whom  they  minister.  In  an  age  of  “ sundry  opinions 
and  parties,”  it  is  almost  impossible  for  the  faithful 
minister  to  develop  and  enforce  the  great  practical 
duties  of  rehgion  without  conflicting  with  the  cher- 
ished views  of  some  of  his  people.  No  doubt  this 
has  often  influenced  the  timid  preacher-  to  “ prophesy 
smooth  things.”  Truth,  which  ought  still  more  to 
have  been  uttered  because  of  existing  ch’cumstances, 
may  have  been  suppressed.  But  never  were  ques- 
tions of  a pohtical  and  moral  nature,  affecting  the 
masses  of  mankind,  more  interwoven  than  now  with 


260 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


the  convictions  of  conscience  and  the  duties  of  relig- 
ion. Never  was  the  faithful  preaching  of  the  Gospel 
more  likely  to  conflict  with  the  opinions  of  worldly, 
and  even  Christian  men,  pertaining  to  matters  of  a 
civil  character.  We  can  scarcely  dwell  upon  the 
future  without  anticipating  that  the  past  trials  of 
ministers,  in  this  respect,  are  only  a foreshadowing 
of  what  is  to  come.  For  such  an  emergency  we 
need  fearless  men,  such  as  are  trained  from  the  cra- 
dle to  regard  the  convictions  of  conscience,  and  the 
principles  of  truth  ; men  who  would  cheerfully  sacri- 
fice the  delights  of  a happy  settlement  rather  than 
shun  “ to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God.” 

Missionaries  of  the  cross  are  imperatively  de- 
manded by  the  age.  Of  the  young  men  and  women 
from  our  Christian  famfiies,  few  only  are  walling  to 
endure  the  hardships  incident  to  bearing  the  Gospel 
to  the  perishing.  Few  can  look  the  self-denials  and 
trials  of  a missionary  life  in  the  face,  and  say,  “ Lord, 
here  am  I,  send  me.”  Indeed,  comparatively  few  are 
the  mothers  who  ■will  cheerfully  give  their  sons  and 
daughters  to  bear  the  news  of  salvation  to  a distant 
clime.  They  offer  earnest  prayers  to  God  that  reap- 
ers may  be  found  for  the  -whitened  harvest,  but  they 
are  not  willing  to  have  them  called  from  their  un- 
broken households.  While  this  ■^'ithholding  spirit 
rules  in  numerous  souls,  the  heathen  are  passing  to 
the  judgment  at  a rate  more  rapid  than  succeed  the 
pulsations  of  the  heart ! Along  the  shores  of  every 
benighted  land,  the  earnest  pleadings  of  the  living, 
and  the  last  call  of  the  dying,  are  for  the  teacher  of 
life.  It  is  God’s  “ set  time  ” to  give  the  world  his 
Gospel.  But  faithful  heralds  are  needed  to  enlist  in 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


261 


the  mighty  enterprise.  Not  by  tens  and  twenties, 
but  by  fifties  and  hundreds,  they  are  called  by  the 
voice  of  Providence.  The  present  supply  can  scarce- 
ly reach  the  demand  which  comes  from  a single 
point  of  the  compass. 

Hence  the  appeal  to  mothers ! Who  but  they  can 
form  the  character  of  rising  generations  to  be  reform- 
ers ? When  shall  the  heart  imbibe  those  principles, 
and  become  inspired  with  that  spirit,  needful  for  a 
work  so  exciting,  except  in  the  morning  of  life? 
Who  so  weU  as  they  can  rear  a generation  to  sym- 
pathize with  the  suffering  and  lost  of  every  land? 
Who  so  well  can.  train  the  heart  for  deeds  of  noble 
charity  ? Who  can  impress  the  truth  so  ineffaceably 
upon  the  spirit,  “ It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 
receive  ? ” Who  can  rear,  for  coming  generations,  the 
faithful  minister  of  Christ,  so  successfully  as  they  who 
pour  into  childhood’s  heart  the  story  of  a Saviour’s 
love?  Who  can  furnish  for  the  public  seats  of 
power,  men  of  sterling  rectitude,  so  easily  as  they 
who  train  the  conscience,  and  inspire  the  youthful 
heart  with  the  love  of  ti’uth  ? Who,  so  well  as 
mothers,  can  awaken  in  the  human  soul  an  interest 
in  the  cause  of  missions,  and  a desire  to  be  a 
preacher  where  the  Gospel  is  unknown  ? God  com- 
mands mothers,  in  this  crisis  of  affairs,  to  train  their 
sons  and  daughters  to  be  successful  agents  in  the 
conversion  of  the  world.  The  offering  which  they 
are  required  to  make  is  great.  But  mothers  yield  up 
their  sons  to  contend  on  bloody  fields  of  battle  for  a 
wreath  of  fame,  or  to  dig  for  wealth  in  the  “ land  of 
gold.”  Said  a true-hearted  Scotch  woman  to  Robert 
Bruce,  when  hunted  by  his  foes,  “ I have  two  sons, 


262 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


gallant  and  trusty  men,  who  shall  be  your  servants 
for  life  and  death.”  So  saying,  she  brought  her 
youthful  sons,  dear  to  her  heart  by  a thousand  ties, 
and  made  them  swear,  in  the  frowning  face  of  peril, 
fidelity  to  their  king.  So  should  sons  be  borne  to 
the  altar  of  God,  and  given  up,  for  “ life  and  death,” 
to  Christ  and  a dying  world. 

Mothers  ! We  have  endeavored  to  show  that  this 
era  especially  appeals  to  you.  For  sharing  its  press- 
ing responsibilities,  peculiar  advantages  are  incident 
to  the  relation  of  maternal  and  filial  love.  There  is 
a design  in  the  moulding  power  of  a mother’s  love 
which  subdues  the  son’s  defying  spirit,  even  when  it 
is  unconquered  by  a father’s  authority.  Glance, 
then,  at  the  truths  which  should  inspire  you  with 
hope  in  training  the  child  for  scenes  of  such  impor- 
tance as  those  of  the  present  era. 

The  permanency  of  early  impressions.  This  truth 
reveals  a power  which  mothers  possess  above  all 
others,  by  which  to  school  the  immortal  spirit  for 
whatever  sphere  they  choose.  No  lesson  of  early  fife 
is  lost.  Though  not,  perhaps,  made  visible  in  its 
fruits  for  successive  years,  yet,  from  the  nature  of  the 
mind,  no  early  impression  is  effaced  from  the  tablet 
of  memory. 

Go  to  the  couch  of  the  aged  sire  of  ninety.  Talk 
to  him  of  scenes  that  transpired  a few  ffeeting 
months  ago,  and  a vacant  stare  is  all  his  reply.  Ask 
him  concerning  the  far  distant  period  of  his  child- 
hood and  youth,  and  at  once  the  fire  kindles  in  his 
eye,  and  a smile  fights  up  his  wnrinkled  face.  Words 
flow  apace  as  he  glowingly  describes  the  scenes  of 
fife’s  fresh  morning,  when  the  old  homestead  rang 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


263 


with  his  merry  laughter,  and  the  brook  where  he 
angled  glided  along  in  its  beauty ; and  you  will  say, 
surely  the  impressions  of  childhood  are  engraved  in 
ineffaceable  lines  upon  the  spirit. 

There  was  a man  of  middle  age,  unprincipled, 
profligate,  and  abandoned;  but  he  was  arrested  in 
his  career  of  guilt  by  a sudden  chain  of  reflection. 
His  thoughts  were  busy  upon  the  past,  and  anxiety 
was  written  on  his  brow.  His  mind  was  absorbed 
in  the  most  thrilling  scene  of  his  childhood.  He 
stood,  in  imagination,  a youth  at  the  bedside  of  his 
dying  mother.  He  looked  again  upon  her  pallid 
cheek,  on  which  beamed  a heavenly  smile.  He  heard 
again  her  voice  in  words  of  dying  counsel.  The  fal- 
tering accents  of  her  last  prayer  for  the  blessing  of 
heaven  to  rest  upon  his  early  years  again  thrilled  in 
his  soul ; and  the  tear  of  penitence  started  from  his 
eye,  and  the  sigh  of  contrition  burst  from  his  heart. 
That  mother’s  faithful  warning  lived  after  the 
thoughtlessness  of  twenty  years,  powerful  to  alarm, 
restrain,  and  reform.  Sm'ely  childhood  has  a power 
to  retain  lessons  of  wisdom  and  love  which  belongs 
not  to  the  experience  of  age. 

A gray-haired  man  of  eighty  lay  upon  his  death- 
bed. For  many  years  he  had  lived  a widower, 
dependent  upon  the  kindness  of  a cherished  son.  A 
numerous  family  of  sons  and  daughters  had  been 
reared  by  his  faithful  care ; but  now  they  were 
widely  scattered.  As  he  descended  the  vale  of  life, 
his  active  mind  began  to  fail,  and  before  he  died, 
reason  was  partially  dethroned.  In  his  last  delirious 
moments,  when  in  the  weakness  of  second  child- 
hood he  sighed  for  soothing  words  of  love,  he  called 


264 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


not  for  his  deceased  wife  or  loving  children ; bnt 
most  touchingly  pleaded  for  his  remembered  mother. 
His  mind,  in  its  wreck,  retained  no  other  impressions 
than  those  of  his  early  life,  when  she  taught  him  of 
Jesus,  or  watched  over  him  through  dreary  nights  of 
sickness.  He  saw  again,  vivid  as  in  real  life,  the 
form  of  that  sainted  mother  ; and  he  longed  once 
more  to  hear  the  music  of  her  voice,  and  feel  the 
pressure  of  her  hand  upon  his  fevered  brow. 

Thus  deathless  is  the  influence  of  the  faithful 
mother  over  her  innocent  child.  Her  impressiofis 
upon  the  heart  are  like  letters  cut  in  brass  or  granite. 
God  has  elected  her  to  a calling  more  curious  and 
wonderful  than  the  magic  art  of  the  sculptor;  for 
hers  is  not  to  present  a lifeless  form  of  beauty  to  an 
admiring  world,  but  one  instinct  with 

“ Thoughts  that  breathe  and  words  that  burn  ; ” 

a workmanship  which  wiU  reveal  forever  the  touch 
of  its  early  fashioning.  IMother ! the  tear  of  your 
child  win  be  wiped  away.  Its  sorrows  are  fleeting. 

“ The  tear  down  childhood’s  check  which  flows, 

Is  like  the  dew-drop  on  the  rose ; 

"When  the  next  summer  breeze  comes  by, 

And  waves  the  bush,  the  flower  is  dry.”  * 

But  the  impress  of  your  life  upon  its  soul  is  im- 
mortal. 

Around  the  solemn  charge  of  the  mother  a multi- 
tude of  facts  cluster  to  cheer  her  in  her  pressing 
duties.  For  what  has  been  done  in  the  past  may  be 
done  again  in  the  future. 


* Scott 


THE  ERA  EOR  MOTHERS. 


265 


Some  years  ago,  a student  in  the  College  of 

wrote  to  a friend,  in  a season  of  revival,  as 

follows : “ Having  myself  a praying  mother,  it  oc- 
curred to  me  to  inquire  of  the  subjects  of  this  revival 
whether  their  mothers  were  pious.  I did  so,  and 
found  that  scarcely  one  sinner  was  brought  to  the 
fold  of  Christ,  who  was  not  blest  with  a prayerful 
mother.  This  is  a fact.  Oh  that  mothers  would  let 
it  make  the  proper  impression  on  their  hearts ! ” 

In  a Theological  Seminary,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  young  men  were  associated  in  preparing  for 
the  Christian  ministry.  They  became  interested  to 
learn  what  proportion  of  their  number  were  blest 
with  pious  mothers.  They  were  not  less  surprised 
than  delighted,  to  learn  “ that  more  than  a hundred 
had  been  blest  by  a mother’s  prayers,  and  directed  by 
a mother’s  counsels  to  the  Saviour.” 

John  Adams,  in  a letter  to  his  wife,  wrote  as  fol- 
lows : “ In  reading  history,  you  will  generally  observe, 
when  you  light  upon  a great  character,  whether  a 
general,  a statesman,  or  a philosopher,  some  female 
about  him,  either  in  the  character  of  a mother,  wife, 
or  sister,  who  has  knowledge  and  ambition  above 
the  ordinary  level  of  women,  and  that  much  of  his 
eminence  is  owing  to  her  precepts,  example,  or  insti- 
gation in  some  shape  or  other.”  These  are  words 
of  high  authority  for  wisdom  and  experience.  Their 
truthfulness  is  confirmed  in  the  following  paragraph 
from  a French  writer : “ Of  sixty-nine  monarchs 
who  have  worn  the  French  crown,  only  three  have 
loved  the  people,  and  all  those  three  were  reared  by 
their  mothers,  without  the  intervention  of  peda- 
23 


266 


LITE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


gogues.  A Bossuet  educated  the  tyrant  Louis 
XIV. ; his  mother  did  not  train  Mm.  St.  Louis  was 
trained  by  Blancha ; Louis  XII.  by  Maria  of  Cleves ; 
and  Henry  IV.  by  Jane  of  Albret ; and  these  were 
reaUy  the  fathers  of  their  people ! ” 

Who  is  not  famihar  with  the  early  history  of 
Washington  ? At  the  mention  of  his  honored  name, 
how  bright  the  memories  of  Ms  sainted  mother 
which  throng  the  mind ! Who  does  not  feel,  that, 
great  and  good  as  the  model  statesman  might  have 
been  by  nature,  much  resulted  to  the  nation  from  his 
early  training  ? Two  incidents  of  Ms  early  life  ex- 
Mbit  the  power  of  maternal  government.  VTien,  in 
the  spirit  of  youthful  adventure,  he  was  about  to  sail 
as  a midshipman,  contrary  to  a mother’s  counsel, 
what  a change  was  wrought  by  the  silent  power  of 
her  unuttered  feelings ! The  vessel  in  which  he  was 
to  sail  lay  opposite  Ms  father’s  house.  A little  boat, 
to  convey  him  thither,  had  reached  the  shore.  He 
went  to  bid  his  mother  a long  farewell.  He  saw  her 
tears,  and  his  heart  was  moved.  “ I "will  not  go 
away  and  break  my  mother’s  heart ! ” said  he.  And 
from  that  hour  he  began  to  live  for  Ms  country’s 
good.  How  different  might  have  been  our  national 
history,  had  not  a mother’s  love  detained  him  from  a 
seaman’s  life  ! How  much  the  nation  owes  to  ma- 
ternal influence ! 

When  he  was  elected  to  the  chief  magistracy  of 
the  United  States,  he  repaired  immediately  to  the 
home  of  Ms  youth,  to  pay  a tribute  of  love  to  Ms 
remembered  mother.  The  touching  scene  of  that 
meeting  has  been  the  theme  of  the  orator  and  the 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


267 


poet.  The  historian  records  it  in  the  following  elo- 
quent words : “ His  head  rested  on  the  shoulder  of 
his  parent.  That  brow,  on  which  fame  had  wreathed 
the  purest  laurels  that  virtue  ever  gave  to  created  man, 
relaxed  from  its  lofty  bearing.  That  look,  which 
could  have  awed  a Roman  Senate  in  its  Fabrican 
day,  was  bent  in  full  tenderness  upon  the  time-worn 
features  of  his  venerable  matron.  The  great  man 
wept.  A thousand  recollections  crowded  upon  his 
mind  as  memory  retraced  scenes  long  past,  and 
carried  him  back  to  his  paternal  mansion,  and  the 
days  of  his  youth ; and  the  centre  of  his  attraction 
was  his  mother,  whose  care,  instruction,  and  dis- 
cipline had  prepared  him  to  reach  the  topmost  height 
of  his  laudable  ambition ; yet  how  were  his  glories 
forgotten,  while  he  looked  upon  her,  from  whom, 
wasted  by  time  and  malady,  he  must  soon  part,  to 
meet  no  more!”  This  incident  alone  is  sufficient  to 
satisfy  the  most  incredffious,  that  great  and  powerful 
must  have  been  a mother’s  influence  upon  his  char- 
acter. We  can  but  feel  that  he  achieved  so  much 
for  his  country,  because  his  mother  taught  him  in 
the  nursery,  as  she  expressed  it  herself,  the  lessons  of 
“ diligence,  obedience,  and  truth ! ” 

We  cannot  dismiss  this  subject  without  pointing 
to  a single  example  of  maternal  influence,  recorded 
in  the  sacred  Scriptures.  In  the  early  history  of  the 
church,  there  lived  a godly  family  in  the  city  of  Lys- 
tra,  in  which  the  parchments  of  the  Holy  Scriptm-es 
were  preserved.  A son,  loved  much  because  of  the 
ties  of  nature,  and  more  because  he  might  be  trained 
for  Christ,  was  taught  to  read  and  obey  the  truths 
which  they  revealed.  From  those  sacred  records  the 


268 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


richest  lessons  were  poured  into  his  tender  mind. 
Lodged  in  his  heart,  they 

“ Grew  with  his  growth,  and  strengthened  with  his  strength.” 

Years  rolled  on,  and  he  became  a man.  Bhs  heart 
burned  with  Christian  love.  His  soul  was  stirred 
with  the  highest  and  purest  aspirations.  The  words 
of  life  were  published  by  his  lips.  Multitudes 
thronged  around  him  to  hear  the  news  of  salvation, 
and  hearing,  lived.  His  influence  rolled  on  like  a 
wave  of  the  sea ; and,  on  every  hand,  “ the  saved 
and  trembhng  ” rose  up  to  caU  him  blessed.  Thus 
toiled  the  faithful  Timothy  for  God  ; because  through 
the  influence  of  his  “ grandmother  Lois  ” and  his 
“ mother  Eunice,”  “ from  a child  he  had  known  the 
Holy  Scriptures.” 

What  shall  I say  more  ? Time  would  fail  me  to 
tell  of  all  that  has  been  achieved  by  mothers  for  the 
welfare  of  our  race.  We  have  said  enough  to  show, 
that  the  present  is  an  era  for  mothers;  enough  to 
prove,  that  with  them  rests,  in  a very  important  sense, 
the  future  destiny  of  manldnd. 

Is  it  not  a solemn  charge  ? There  is  no  greater 
trust  than  this  — to  discipline  a deathless  spirit 
One  deed  of  sin,  one  word,  one  vicious  breath,  may 
blight  the  fondest  hopes.  Indeed,  far  less  than  this 
may  nuflify  honest  and  earnest  efforts. 

“ The  child 

That  shuts  within  its  breast  a bloom  for  heaven, 

May  take  a blemish  from  the  breath  of  love, 

And  bear  the  blight  forever.”  * 


* tVillis. 


THE  ERA  FOR  MOTHERS. 


269 


What  consequences  hang  upon  a point  of  time ! 
"What  hopes  and  fears  gather  around  a single  child  ! 
What  volumes  crowd  an  hour ! Mothers  need  to 
use  such  care,  skill,  wisdom,  and  toilsome  hours,  as 
are  requued  to  wield  the  artist’s  pencil. 

How  dare  they  trifle  with  a charge,  in  whose  life 
the  bliss  of  hundreds  may  be  involved ! How  dare 
they  warp  a mind  by  chasing  “ any  nothings,”  when 
it  ought  to  be  disciphned  to  become  a blessing  to 
manldnd ! How  dare  they  assume  the  responsibility 
of  rearing  an  immortal  being  to  be  ignorant  of  truth 
and  duty,  when,  by  an  obligation,  weighty  and  sol- 
emn as  God  would  have  it,  they  are  commanded  to 
train  him  for  usefulness  and  glory  ! How  dare  they 
permit  a single  child  to  devote  his  energies  to  fashion 
and  earth-born  delight,  thus  growing  up  to  be  a cipher 
or  a curse,  when  their  country  and  the  world  are  suf- 
fering for  the  want  of  men  of  unblemished  character 
and  moral  might ! Their  mission  to  this  world  is  to 
leave  it  better  than  they  found  it.  How  can  they 
make  it  better  by  a swifter  progress,  than  by  giving 
to  it  the  young  and  peerless  energies  of  a well- 
trained  posterity  ? 

Mothers ! studiously  ponder  the  indications  of 
Providence.  Regard  aU  that  your  eyes  rest  upon, 
in  the  vicissitudes  of  human  affairs,  as  truly  em- 
braced in  the  infinite  range  of  the  Divine  government. 
Learn  to  trace  each  passing  event  to  the  agency  of 
Him,  whose  “ throne  is  in  the  heavens,  and  whose 
kingdom  ruleth  over  aU.”  See  God  in  the  scenes  of 
the  present  crisis,  shaking  with  his  lifted  arm  the  old 
organizations  of  pohtical  power,  and  the  imposing 
systems  of  idolatry.  Feel  that  the  noise  and  tumult 
23  * 


270 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


of  the  present  age  is  but  the  thunder  of  his  chariot- 
wheels,  as  he  rides  from  victory  to  victory,  ushering 
in  the  developments  of  the  “ latter  days.”  Then, 
and  not  tiU  then,  you  will  feel  that  this  is  the  era  for 
maternal  fidelity.  Then  you  will  apply  your  hands 
and  your  hearts  with  matchless  zeal  to  render  home 
the  primary  school  of  the  land,  in  which  are  disci- 
plined her  faithful  and  true  sons  and  daughters.  Then, 
with  a devotion  which  never  tires,  you  will  guide  the 
deathless  spirit  to  a life  of  Christian  toil  on  earth, 
and  a sweeter  home  in  the  sides. 


XII. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHARACTER. 


“ The  purest  treasure  mortal  times  afford 
Is  spotless  reputation ; that  away, 

Men  are  but  gilded  loam,  or  painted  clay.” 

Shakspeaee. 


Philosophy  is  the  reason  of  things.  Hence  there 
is  philosophy  in  all  things,  since  there  is  a reason  for 
the  nature  and  existence  of  all  things  in  creation, 
providence,  and  grace.  Though  philosophy  pertains 
to  all  things,  it  is  comparatively  little  studied  and 
known  by  mankind.  They  know  that  fire  is  hot,  ice 
is  cold,  a rose  is  red,  and  leaves  are  green  ; but  how 
few  persons  seek  for  the  reason  of  these  phenomena. 
Some  contemplate  the  orb  of  day  in  its  radiant  cir- 
cuit only  in  the  estimate  of  the  oil  its  light  wiU  save. 
Some  admire  the  majestic  march  of  a summer’s 
cloud,  filtering  water  as  it  goes  upon  thirsty  lands 
and  shallow  streams ; but  appreciate  the  phenomenon 
only  by  the  inches  it  raises  the  water  in  their  ex- 
hausted mill-ponds.  Some  go  into  ecstacies  over 
their  crops  of  corn  or  cotton,  while  they  are  blind  to 
the  development  of  nature’s  glorious  plan.  Some 
see  beauty  in  the  blossoms  that  coronate  a tree ; but 
only  as  it  prognosticates  so  many  bushels  of  luscious 

(271) 


272 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


fruit.  This  is  the  compass  of  their  philosophy. 
While  boundless  fields  of  knowledge  invite  and 
allure  the  mind  to  gather  treasures  richer  than  Pe- 
ruvian placers,  immortal  powers  grovel  in  the  dust, 
as  if  the  world  were  a mammoth  mine,  and  “ man’s 
chief  end  ” to  dig  and  winnow  gold. 

But  most  of  all,  men  are  deficient  in  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  true  Philosophy  of  Character.  That  is, 
in  the  formation  of  character,  the  mass  of  the  human 
family  have  no  regard  to  plan  or  rule.  There  is  a 
sort  of  recldessness,  almost  universal,  upon  this  sub- 
ject. Men  accord  ^vith  Solomon,  that  “ a good  name 
is  better  than  great  riches ; ” but  how  character  is 
made  is  the  philosophy  they  have  seldom  studied. 
By  what  laws,  inherent  or  extraneous,  mental,  so- 
cial, or  moral,  this  workmanship,  more  exquisitely 
nice  and  beautiful  than  the  statue  of  Phidias,  is  pro- 
duced, how  few  consider ! The  most  that  claims 
attention  is  a collection  of  \\dse  and  stereotyped  pre- 
cepts, very  important  to  know  and  practise  ; but  far 
back  of  these  hes  the  philosophical  view,  in  the  eter- 
nal laws  of  the  mind.  The  character  is  formed  by 
law,  positive  and  direct,  as  really  as  the  full  ripe  corn 
in  the  ear.  Divine  laws,  in  the  production  of  rain 
and  light,  heat  and  cold,  are  not  more  apparent  than  * 
the  laws  of  the  mind  and  heart  in  the  production  of 
character.  Character  is  not  something  that  we  take 
to  ourselves  from  without ; but  that  which  we  fabri- 
cate with  the  machinery  within.  For  its  web  to  be 
complete,  not  a thread  broken  or  dropped,  all  these 
laws  of  mind  and  heart  must  move  in  harmonious 
action,  as  truly  as  the  complete  mechanism  of  a 
watch.  It  is  not  sufficient  to  know  simple  precept ; 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHARACTER. 


273 


we  need  to  learn  something  of  those  internal  laws, 
in  obedience  to  which  precept  may  be  reduced  to 
practice.  Then  we  go  back  to  the  foundation.  We 
see  on  what  a basis  the  superstructure  may  rise. 
We  need  not  a view  of  the  entire  life  to  learn  what 
character  will  be.  When  the  foundation  of  some 
noble  edifice  is  laid,  and  a few  gigantic  columns  are 
reared  in  colossal  grandeur  to  support  the  dome, 
we  may  judge,  in  some  degree,  what  its  architectural 
beauty  will  be,  before  we  see  the  last  stone  raised  to 
its  place  in  the  fabric,  or  the  last  touch  of  garniture 
upon  its  splendid  walls.  So,  when  we  learn  that  the 
foundation  of  human  character  is  laid  in  the  harmo- 
nious action  of  the  mental  and  moral  laws  of  one’s 
being,  we  may  judge  somewhat  of  the  prospective 
sti’ucture,  as  virtue  after  virtue  shall  be  wrought  into 
the  comely  fabric,  like  hewn  and  polished  blocks  of 
pearl,  agate,  and  gold. 

As  already  intimated,  a great  variety  of  character 
presents  itself  to  our  view,  varying  as  the  physiog- 
nomies of  men,  yet  why  is  it  thus  ? and  hoiv  is  it 
thus  ? are  questions  not  often  revolved.  Character 
is  to  be  made ; and  of  all  made  things,  least  care  and 
attention  is  devoted  to  this.  Even  parents  mourn 
over  the  utter  ruin  of  a son,  and  wonder  at  such  an 
issue  of  vice,  when  they  have  not  devoted  an  hour 
of  their  lives  to  the  inquiry,  how  unsulhed  character 
is  made.  His  clothes,  his  amusements,  his  thousand- 
and-one  boyish  wishes,  have  aU  received  careful  at- 
tention. In  respect  to  these,  taste,  appearances,  econ- 
omy, pleasure,  and  durability  are  all  studied.  There 
is  often  more  common  sense,  earnest  thought,  and 
sound  reasoning,  or,  in  other  words,  true  philosophy, 


274 


LIPB  AT  THE  PIRESEDE. 


expended  upon  the  making  of  a coat  than  upon  the 
making  of  character.  The  brainless  dandy,  who  acts 
as  if  a man’s  intrinsic  value  were  carried  on  his  back, 
is  a philosopher  at  the  toilet,  and  an  ignoramus  in 
the  schools.  With  the  multitude,  no  effort  is  made 
to  mould  character.  It  is  left  to  take  the  direction 
that  surrounding  circumstances  determine.  It  is  not, 
then,  a matter  of  surprise,  that  so  many  of  our  race 
are  perfect  paupers  in  respect  to  a good  name.  It  is 
a wonder  there  are  not  more.  When  fathers  and 
mothers  have  less  to  do  with  a son’s  character  than 
with  his  coat,  less  real  anxiety  for  his  principles  than 
for  his  pleasures,  we  need  not  wonder,  we  cannot 
wonder,  at  the  issue.  When  men,  vdth  deep  con- 
cern, secure  the  inheritance  of  wealth  wdth  bonds 
and  mortgages,  bolt  and  padlock,  and  yet  make 
no  provision  for  the  safety  and  perpetuity  of  virtue, 
we  need  not  be  surprised  at  the  results  in  infamy. 
That  man  deserves  commiseration  for  his  lack  of 
good-sense  who  thinks  of  forming  character  without 
nice  discrimination  and  study,  when  without  it  he 
would  not  think  of  making  a salable  cloth,  or  other 
marketable  goods. 

With  these  preliminaries,  we  are  prepared  to  elu- 
cidate the  subject  proposed  — Philosophy  of  Char- 
acter. 

The  importance  of  the  theme  cannot  be  exag- 
gerated. How  expressive  with  meaning  is  the  very 
term  — character ! As  it  rings  upon  the  ear,  it  ex- 
cites visions  of  joy  or  soitow,  of  hope  or  despair,  of 
endless  felicity  or  woe.  From  the  developments  of 
the  past  and  present,  it  stretches  forv'ard  in  its  all- 
comprehensive  reach  of  meaning  to  the  soul’s  tern- 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHARACTER. 


275 


poral  and  eternal  destiny.  It  wears  the  seal  of  im- 
mortality. Its  price  is  far  above  rubies.  It  is  the 
soul’s  wealth,  — its  burning  sapphire,  jasper,  and 
topaz.  Without  it,  man  is  cursed  with  most  un- 
pitying pauperism.  There  is  no  pauperism  so  abject 
and  crushing  as  poverty  of  character.  The  bare 
conception  of  its  absence  suggests  the  worse  than 
penury  that  frowns  upon  the  days  of  him  who  owns 
it  not.  A characterless  man ! Who  suffers  him  to 
tread  the  unstained  hearth-stone  of  home  ? In  aU 
the  circles  of  valued  men,  who  loves  him?  Who 
among  the  tried  of  virtue’s  name  does  not  hate  his 
vicious  living  ? Who  trusts  him  with  his  property 
or  his  business  without  careful  watching  ? A char- 
acterless man!  Oh,  the  squalor  and  wretchedness 
of  such  a moral  tatterdemalion,  — a poor,  miserable, 
forsaken  outcast,  exiled  from  virtuous  homes  and 
hearts!  Characterless!  Who  would  not  rather  be 
moneyless,  and  homeless  too,  — a pauper  of  “’olden 
time,”  knocked  off  to  the  lowest  bidder  to  be  fed  and 
clothed ! With  all  our  hearts  let  us  pity  that  poor 
wretch,  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  who  does  not  own 
one  good  man’s  respect,  — whose  threadbare  char- 
acter denotes  him  a candidate  for  Satan’s  almshouse, 
— loathed,  hapless  man  on  earth,  more  hapless  still 
in  heU ! 

Character  is  aU  that  a man  hath,  — his  bosom 
friend,  his  guardian  angel,  as  he  travels  an  Egypt 
to  inhabit  a Canaan,  — his  seraph  guide  to  Pisgah’s 
heights  of  glory,  where  to  view  the  promised  land,  — 
yea,  the  magic  rod  wdth  which  he  parts  the  flood,  to 
escape  the  Pharaoh  of  a heartless  world. 

At  this  point  it  may  be  necessary  to  avoid  a mis- 


276 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


understanding,  by  noting  the  distinction  between 
character  and  reputation.  They  are  frequently  used 
synonymously,  although  widely  differing.  Char- 
acter is  what  a man  is.  Reputation  may  be  what 
he  is  not.  Character  is -a  man’s  real  worth  — his 
intrinsic  value.  Reputation  is  what  is  thought  of 
him,  his  value  in  the  market  of  public  opinion. 
Character  “ hath  foundations,”  a basis  enduring  as 
granite.  Reputation  rests  upon  fluctuating  hearsay, 
“ which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  not.”  Character 
is  a man’s  net  capital  in  the  trade  of  hfe,  always 
yielding  a reasonable  income,  and  furnishing  him 
with  security  against  remediless  failure,  when  others 
are  involved  in  ruin.  Reputation  is  only  the  capital 
which  his  neighbors  say  he  possesses,  and  which  is 
somewhat  more  likely  to  be  false  than  true.  Char- 
acter is  the  product  of  working  laws.  Reputation 
exists  independent  of  law,  — a lawless  thing.  The 
French  were  wont  to  say,  “ the  reputation  of  a man 
is  like  his  shadow ; it  sometimes  follows,  and  some- 
times precedes  him ; it  is  sometimes  longer  and 
sometimes  shorter  than  himself.”  Hence  a person 
really  devoid  of  every  element  of  vuduous  character 
may  be  favorably  reported  abroad.  But  he  alone 
who  is  intrinsically  worthy  of  such  a name,  can  claim 
the  character  of  which  we  speak. 

The  Law  of  Association  is  the  first  law  which  is 
involved  in  the  philosophy  of  character.  It  is  a fact 
of  our  experience,  and  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all 
our  tastes  and  habits.  It  is  one  of  the  simplest 
principles  of  mental  action,  and  is  attended  by  the 
most  wonderful  of  mental  phenomena.  It  consists 
simply  in  this ; — a person  or  thing  once  seen  in 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHABACTER. 


277 


connection  with  another,  becomes  associated  with  it  in 
the  mind,  so  that  the  mention  or  presentation  of  the 
one  will  recall  the  other.  The  bare  circumstance  of 
being  seen  together  may  create  such  a lasting  and 
inevitable  association. 

Common  examples  of  the  operation  of  this  law 
are  such  as  the  following.  If  the  village  bell  tolls 
slowly,  and  at  measured  intervals,  we  think  of  death 
and  the  grave.  On  the  other  hand,  the  sound  of 
jingling  sleigh-bells  suggests  the  joyous  heart,  and 
merry  ride ! If  we  meet  a man  notorious  for  some 
vice,  we  are  at  once  reminded  of  his  pernicious  habit. 
The  smell  of  camphor,  or  the  physician’s  carriage  at 
a neighbor’s  door,  causes  us  to  inquire,  who  is  ill. 

Visit  some  warworn  pensioner,  the  living  rehc  of 
revolutionary  story,  nor  hsp  one  word  that  shall 
recall  the  recollection  of  hard-fought  battles,  and 
triumphs  of  victory.  But  pour  the  martial  strain  of 
fife  and  drum  into  his  heavy  ear,  and  the  old  man’s 
heart  beats  against  the  walls  of  its  wasting  taber- 
nacle, as  if  his  age  were  renewed  with  the  spirit  of 
’76.  The  martial  music  revives  the  recollection  of 
the  past. 

The  scholar  of  classic  fame  stands  beside  the 
crumbling  towers  and  temples  of  Greece  or  Rome. 
He  walks  over  ruins  that  are  dignified  with  the 
memory  of  genius  and  heroic  virtue.  He  breathes 
an  air  that  seems  loaded  with  the  melody  of  ancient 
eloquence  and  song.  For  he  treads  a spot  that  is 
hallowed  with  stirring  associations,  pervading  the 
soil  and  the  air,  and  speaking  out  from  every  wasting 
column  and  portico,  with  a power  that  kindles  fire  in 
the  eye,  and  inspiration  in  the  heart. 

24 


278 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


When  Mark  Antony  pronounced  his  distinguished 
eulogy  over  the  dead  body  of  Caesar,  he  made  an 
appeal  to  this  law,  in  order  to  carry  udth  him  the 
hearts  of  his  audience.  With  solemn  mien  he 
stretched  out  his  hand,  and  with  his  nerv’ous  fingers 
lifted  the  covering  from  the  great  man’s  corpse,  and, 
pointing  to  the  gaping  wounds,  gave  them  a voice 
more  thrilling  than  his  own,  by  the  rush  of  memories 
which  it  caused  in  the  minds  of  the  vast  assembly. 
The  past  had  a history,  of  which  dead  Caesar  was 
the  life  and  soul,  and  one  glimpse  of  the  gaping  gash 
spread  it  out  as  on  painted  canvas.  Never,  never 
had  funeral  eloquence  such  power ; for  it  A^arought 
the  slavery  of  twenty  nations. 

One  who  perfectly  understood  the  philosophy  of 
the  mind,  appealed,  in  an  horn  of  affecting  interest, 
to  this  law,  as  the  basis  of  hopes  that  never  die. 
When  about  to  be  offered  on  the  cross,  Christ  de- 
sired a grateful  remembrance  in  the  hearts  of  his 
people.  How  unpretending  the  method  by  which 
his  name  is  perpetuated ! He  took  bread,  and  brake 
it,  and  gave  to  his  disciples,  saying,  “ this  do  in 
remembrance  of  me.”  How  simple,  and  yet  how 
grand  ! By  an  appeal  to  the  law  of  association,  he 
united,  beyond  the  possibility  of  forgetting,  the 
sacred  symbols  with  the  untold  sufferings  of  the 
cross.  Neither  time  nor  distance  nor  revolution 
hath  jostled  one  stone  in  this  monument,  which 
Christ  erected  in  human  hearts.  Others  have  sought 
to  perpetuate  theii'  memory  by  rearing  stupendous 
works  to  survive  the  wasting  touch  of  time.  They 
have  founded  cities,  raised  monumental  piles,  and 
budded  pyramids.  But  Christ  asked  not  for  brass  or 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHARACTEE. 


279 


marble.  He  reared  no  gilded  shaft ; he  sent  up  no 
lofty  column.  Yet,  when  the  works  of  earth’s 
mightiest  Nimrods  shall  have  crumbled  to  dust,  this 
monument  of  Christ  will  abide  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
For  its  basis  is  a law  of  our  existence  as  unchange- 
able and  wasteless  as  the  soul. 

The  above  examples  will  suffice  to  illustrate  our 
meaning.  They  show  that  persons,  ideas,  and 
things  may  be  inseparably  associated  in  the  mind. 

With  this  view,  it  is  clear  that  this  law  must  have 
great  force  in  the  formation  of  character.  By  pru- 
dence, wisdom,  foresight,  and  purity,  aU  life’s  associ- 
ations may  be  pure,  and  the  character,  of  course,  par- 
takes of  that  purity.  When  the  scenes  in  which  one 
mingles  are  virtuous,  there  can  be  no  vicious  recol- 
lections to  fire  the  passions,  and  pollute  the  heart. 
Equally  powerful  are  the  workings  of  this  law  in  the 
production  of  evil.  It  drives  the  soul  on,  both  in 
the  heavenward  and  hellward  course.  By  ligaments 
too  strong  for  even  death  to  sunder-,  associations  of 
vice 'and  pollution  are  bound  to  the  depraved  heart. 
Unaided  by  Divine  gi-aee,  man  finds  it  impossible  to 
flee  froiu  their  dominion,  though  he  escape  to  the 
utmost  bounds  of  space.  Should  he  ascend  up  into 
heaven,  they  are  there.  If  he  makes  his  bed  in  heU, 
they  are  there.  If  he  takes  the  wings  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  flies  to  either  pole,  they  are  there,  to  tie  him 
to  his  loved  sins.  Aye,  could  we  see  the  triple 
cords,  which  this  law  weaves  to  throw  around  a 
guilty  soul,  we  should  not  wonder  they  break  so 
seldom ; but  that  they  are  ever  broken.  When  a 
man  converts  God’s  laws  into  machinery  to  turn  out 


280 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


pollution,  he  will  find  that  he  has  set  springs  and 
wheels  m motion  that  are  difficult  to  stop. 

Mark  the  tremor  and  agitation  of  that  nervous 
youth.  Possibly  his  parents  have  never  asked  why 
he  starts  and  trembles  when  suddenly  surprised? 
why  he  fears  to  be  alone  in  the  dark  ? why  his  imag- 
ination peoples  darkness  and  solitude  \^ith  ghostly 
figures?  Why  this  fear  and  fright  and  agitation? 
Ay,  there  is  no  mystery  here.  For  nursery  tales  of 
ghosts  and  gobhns  feU  upon  his  infant  ears,  and  as- 
sociated darkness  in  his  mind  wfith  firightful  images. 
So  vivid  hath  nursery  imprudence  made  these  start- 
ling associations,  that  his  youthful  imagination  can 
fill  the  air  at  any  moment  with  phantoms  and  evil 
spirits. 

An  ancient  artist  sketched  the  figure  of  a beauti- 
ful boy  from  the  bright  original,  — the  loveliest  child 
he  ever  saw,  — dehcate  as  a flower,  and  brilliant  as 
a star,  — too  fair  and  beautiful  for  earth.  He  sus- 
pended it  upon  the  umll  of  his  studio,  having  resolved 
that  when  he  saw  the  ughest  victim  of  vice  to  be 
imagined  in  humanity’s  form,  he  would  paint  the 
guilty  wetch,  and  suspend  the  portrait  by  the  side 
of  the  angel-chUd.  Years  rolled  by,  and,  at  length, 
he  found  a loathsome  subject.  With  the  bruises  and 
putrefying  sores  of  vice  festering  upon  every  featme, 
and  blotting  out  the  last  trace  of  human  brotherhood 
from  the  heart,  he  painted  the  profligate,  and  hung 
the  awful  picture  upon  the  wall  fieside  the  child. 
Strange  contrast ! And  yet,  he  found  that  the  man 
whose  portrait  he  had  taken  was  once  that  beauriful 
boy.  He  could  scarcely  beheve  his  eyes.  He  won- 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHARACTER. 


281 


dered  and  wept  over  the  change.  But  there  was  no 
reason  for  wonder  or  surprise.  It  is  not  amazing 
when  we  know  that  early  in  life  he  threw  off  the  in- 
nocency  of  his  childhood,  and  became  the  associate 
of  the  vicious  and  abandoned,  mingling  in  scenes  of 
gross  debauchery,  until  vile  companionship  alone 
could  gratify  his  taste,  and  thus  by  multiplied  and 
vivid  associations  was  made  to  live  continually,  by 
the  force  of  the  imagination,  in  scenes  of  vice.  It 
is  not  strange  when  we  reflect  that  the  soul  was 
united  by  vivid  recollections  to  the  base  delights  of 
pollution,  and  thus  the  passions  were  set  on  fire  by 
unhallowed  memories,  and  kept  burning  as  if  a liv- 
ing coal  were  wound  up  as  a ganglion  in  the  heart. 
Subject  a man  to  the  moulding  power  of  this  law, 
let  it  have  the  opportunity  to  transform,  and,  though 
he  be  an  angel  of  light,  it  will  fashion  him  into  a 
demon  as  readily  as  the  potter  fashioneth  the  clay. 
Here  we  have  a glimpse  of  the  Philosophy  of  Char- 
acter. 

Another  law  of  our  natm-es  having  to  do  with 
this  subject  is  the  Law  of  Imitation.  There  is  very 
little  genuine  originality  among  the  mass  of  the  hu- 
man family.  They  are  mostly  copyists,  not  design- 
ers. The  original  thinking  of  the  world  is  done  by 
a few  choice  spirits.  Our  schools  of  the  arts  and 
sciences  are  generally  a simple  transfer  of  the 
thoughts  of  others.  In  astronomy,  we  are  think- 
ing the  thoughts  of  Herschell ; in  geology,  the 
thoughts  of  Lyell ; in  philosophy,  the  thoughts  of 
Newton ; in  theology,  the  thoughts  of  Luther,  Cal- 
vin, and  others.  Until  we  consider,  we  are  not  aware 
24* 


282 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


how  few  thoughts,  embraced  in  our  general  knowl- 
edge, are  our  own. 

We  carry  this  principle  of  imitation  into  aU  things. 
Character  is  copied  as  truly,  and  generally  to  a 
greater  degree  of  perfection,  than  paintings.  In  a 
foregoing  chapter  upon  the  Parental  Relation,  this 
truth  was  elucidated.  The  fact  that  children  so  gen- 
erally copy  the  virtues  and  vices  of  their  parents 
proving  the  adage,  “hlce  father,  like  son,”  is  evidence 
of  the  powerful  workings  of  this  law. 

AU  human  precepts  and  lessons  concerning  exam- 
ple are  based  upon  it.  Although  few  may  have  in 
view  its  existence,  it  is,  nevertheless,  aU  that  renders 
example  important.  Were  it  not  for  this,  example 
would  be  powerless.  But  now,  the  speediest  method 
to  make  a man  a pattern  of  earthly  virtue  is  to  send 
him  to  mingle  with  the  virtuous.  He  wiU  imitate 
their  viidues.  On  the  other  hand,  a successful  way 
to  make  a profligate  is  to  afford  him  the  companion- 
ship of  the  vicious.  Let  his  eyes  rest  upon  scenes 
of  vice,  and  his  ear  Usten  to  the  song  of  revehy,  and 
by  and  by  his  heart  wiU  throb  with  sympathy,  and 
before  he  dreams  of  sinning  he  is  copying  wees. 
No  virtue  is  so  exalted  and  no  vice  is  so  disgustmg, 
that  man  wiU  not  imitate  it.  This  is  the  sentiment 
of  the  weU-known  lines  of  Pope,  — 

“ Vice  is  a monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 

As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen  ; 

Yet,  seen  too  oft,  familiar  vith  her  face. 

We  first  endure,  then  pitj',  then  embrace.” 

It  was  in  obedience  to  this  law,  that  one  of  the  most 
gifted  painters  of  antiquity  refused  to  gaze  upon  a 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHARACTER. 


283 


defective  picture,  lest  he  should  transfer  the  defect  to 
his  own  canvas.  With  such  force  does  this  law 
rule  the  human  mind. 

Another  law,  akin  to  the  last,  while  yet  distinct, 
is  the  Law  of  Assimilation.  It  is  not  a hand  that 
simply  copies  ; but  one  that  moulds  and  transforms. 
This  law  pervades  the  works  of  God.  It  is  tracea- 
ble in  inanimate  nature.  Some  vines  lock  their 
shooting  tendrils  around  their  nearest  neighbors, 
and  clasp  them  week  after  week  till  their  products 
become  in  nature  hke  their  own.  Multitudinous  are 
the  plants  that  assimilate  aU  others  near  at  hand  to 
themselves. 

The  operation  of  this  law  is  witnessed  in  the  wor- 
shippings of  mankind.  Men  are  assimilated  to  the 
moral  character  of  the  objects  which  they  worship, 
be  that  character  what  it  may.  Some  of  the  tribes 
of  the  Northmen,  who  annihilated  the  Roman 
power,  were  worshippers  of  Odin  and  Thor,  hero- 
kings,  bloodthirsty  and  cruel.  Their  worship  de- 
stroyed the  tenderness  of  their  hearts,  and  seemed  to 
mould  them  over  into  bloodhounds  of  human  form, 
delighted  never  so  much  as  when  upon  the  field  of 
dreadful  slaughter.  So  that  here  the  distinction  be- 
tween imitation  and  assimilation  is  apparent : as- 
similation meaning,  not  simply  the  taking  of  some- 
thing extraneous  to  one’s  self,  but  the  turning  over 
the  inner  man,  with  aU  its  living  sympathies,  to  a 
new  and  different  life,  — a kind  of  re-creation  for 
better  or  worse. 

In  China,  the  priests  of  Buddha  understand  and 
teach  this  doctrine  in  the  following  emphatic  man- 
ner. “ Think  of  Buddha  and  you  will  be  trans- 


284 


■LIFE  AT  THE  ITRESIDE. 


formed  into  Buddha.  K men  pray  to  Buddha  and 
do  not  become  Buddha,  it  is  because  the  mouth 
prays  and  not  the  mind.”  This  is  the  doctrine  of  as- 
similation, not  a whit  too  strongly  stated.  Men  do 
partake  of  the  moral  character  of  the  objects  which 
they  worship.  This  is  the  philosophy  of  religious 
character. 

In  social  and  intellectual  character,  this  law  is 
equally  effective.  The  scholar,  who  has  strong  sym- 
pathy with,  and  glowing  love  for,  some  chosen  au- 
thor, will  gradually,  and  to  a surprising  degree  ap- 
proximate to  his  style  and  manner.  The  friend, 
tried  and  true,  becomes  like  his  bosom  companion. 
The  stronger  his  attachment,  the  closer  his  Ifiend- 
ship,  the  more  implicit  his  confidence,  the  more  cer- 
tainly wiU  his  feelings  and  his  whole  character  be 
assimilated  to  that  of  his  friend.  He  will  love  what 
he  loves,  hate  what  he  hates,  and  do  what  he  does. 
If  the  friend  be  virtuous,  happy  will  it  be  for  him. 
But  though  the  friend  be  carious  to  the  heart’s  core, 
this  law  of  assimilation  will  soon  convert  his  own 
soul  into  a similar  nest  of  harlot  passions.  At  this 
point  many  a stripling  has  been  involved  in  ruin. 
Here  the  seal  of  infamy  has  been  stamped  upon  many 
hearts.  Here  many  a young  man  has  lost  his  crown 
of  glory.  The  attributes  of  his  manhood  have  been 
transmuted  into  bestial  appetites.  The  kindling 
aspirations  of  a noble  nature  have  been  moulded 
into  the  disgusting  sensualities  of  vice.  Not  by 
accident,  or  unlucky  hit;  but  by  the  power  of  a 
moulding  law  that  can  fashion  men  into  vessels  of 
honor  or  dishonor. 

The  Law  of  Habit  also  has  its  place  in  the  form- 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHARACTEK. 


285 


ation  of  character.  The  sagacious  Dr.  Paley  has 
said,  that  “ man  is  a bundle  of  habits,”  meaning  that 
habit  has  more  or  less  to  do  with  his  entire  existence. 
“ Practice  makes  perfect,”  is  a maxim  of  undoubted 
truth  ; but  it  is  only  another  expression  to  denote 
the  force  of  habit.  The  philosophy  of  it  is  simply 
this,  — repetition  gives  facility  and  strength  to  ac- 
tion, physical,  mental,  and  moral. 

The  village  “ smithy  ” at  his  forge  reveals  the  truth 
in  the  brawny  muscles  of  his  arm  ; the  weather-beaten 
tar  in  the  easy  step  with  which  he  climbs  the  rig- 
ging of  his  rocking  ship ; the  trained  equestrian  in 
the  agility  with  which  he  vaults  and  dances  on  slack- 
ened rope  ; the  school-boy  in  the  rapidity  with  which 
he  reads  a page,  dashing  on  from  sentence  to  sen- 
tence, where  once  he  paused  to  trace  the  form  of  let- 
ters, and  spell  each  syllable ; and  the  sinner  in  the 
remorseless  spirit  with  which  he  utters  oaths,  that 
once  would  have  wellnigh  curdled  his  blood,  and 
palsied  his  tongue. 

Habits  “ are  not  always  laid  down  deliberately  as 
plans  to  be  pursued,  but  steal  upon  us  insensibly ; 
insinuate  themselves  into  a train  of  successive  repeti- 
tions,” tin  we  find  they  have  sent  down  their  roots 
into  the  unknown  depths  of  the  heart,  and  their 
shooting  fibres  lock  and  interlock  at  the  centre  of 
our  being. 

We  have  noticed  the  slow  progress  of  insidious 
disease,  when  the  youthful  victim,  aU  unconscious  of 
its  silent  inroads,  wears  the  smile  of  gayety  upon  a 
bloom  that  seems  the  rosy  tint  of  health,  when  it  is 
but  the  hectic  signal  of  decay.  Not  less  insidious 
are  the  advances  of  evil,  that,  by  frequent  repetition, 


286 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


become  incorporated  into  human  character.  Little 
by  little,  step  by  step,  so  slow  and  yet  so  sure,  that, 
what  we  now  regard  with  abhorrence,  we  may  finally 
demand  as  indispensable.  This  law  expends  its  in- 
tensest  force  upon  the  tastes.  Men  do  not  practise 
vice  against  their  tastes.  They  learn  to  love  it 
by  continued  communion  with  it ; and  when  the 
habit  of  indulgence  has  once  created  the  baneful 
taste,  it  requires  a Herculean  will  to  oppose  resist- 
ance. Neither  reason,  persuasion,  argument,  nor  al- 
ways religion,  avail  against  it.  The  poor  inebriate, 
scathed  and  scanned  by  his  unmerciful  bondage  to  a 
vicious  habit,  struggles  and  worries  to  snap  Ms  chains 
asunder,  — to  be  free  from  the  grinding  t\Tanny 
of  appetite ; but  often  it  is  vain.  Or  if,  perchance, 
he  severs  his  bonds,  and  comes  forth  from  the  Egypt 
of  his  thraldom,  branded  and  scourged  in  body  and 
soul,  a sight  of  the  sparkling  cup  may  charm  him 
back  to  his  slavery.  We  are  told  of  a species  of 
deadly  serpent,  that  possess  the  terrific  power  of 
“ charming  by  the  eye,  or  some  mysterious  influence, 
the  birds,  or  other  living  creatures  they  are  intent  upon 
seizing,  and  of  thus  drawing  them  within  reach  of 
their  fangs.”  Fit  symbol  of  the  fascination  of  the  “ Ser- 
pent of  the  Still”  to  the  victims  of  this  drinking  habit! 

The  three  last-mentioned  laws,  imitation,  assimi- 
lation, and  habit  may  be  regarded  branches,  or  radi- 
ations of  the  first,  association.  We  have  preferred, 
however,  to  regard  them  in  their  distinctive  offices. 
Two  others  remain  to  be  considered.  But  here  we 
pause  to  illustrate  more  distinctly  the  operation  of 
these  laws  in  the  formation  of  a single  character. 
Take  the  libertine,  — the  wretch  whose  leading  vice 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHARACTER. 


287 


embraces  in  its  mammoth  scope  all  other  vices.  He 
may  lounge  in  splendid  parlors  ; but  his  body  bloats 
with  pestilent  disease,  and  his  soul  festers  with  the 
loathsome  cancers  of  corruption.  The  signal  of  his 
inward  shame  is  hung  out  upon  every  lineament  of 
his  face,  and  vice  has  scored  its  superscription  upon 
his  very  forehead.  All  over,  from  head  to  foot,  inside 
and  outside,  nature  has  branded  him  with  marks  of  in- 
famy, proclaiming  how  she  loathes  such  a putrescent 
specimen  of  humanity.  She  labels  him  at  every 
loosened  joint,  and  at  every  pore  oozing  with  stench- 
ful ichor,  a moral  monstrosity,  and  swears  that  virtue  is 
ashamed  that  such  a being  lives.  He  lives  and  moves, 
perchance,  among  some  decent  people,  but  more  to 
be  dreaded  than  plague  and  cholera  combined.  For 
he  hunts  virtue  as  game.  He  allures  and  traps  un- 
suspecting innocence.  The  brighter  virtue  he  can 
decoy,  and  drag  down  to  the  lowest  depths  of  sensu- 
ality, the  greater  is  his  joy.  Vile  miscreant!  The 
blackest  fiend  that  ti'eads  the  burning  marl  of  hell 
could  do  no  more.  I have  read  of  an  ambitious  art- 
ist, living  in  days  of  yore,  who,  in  order  to  paint  a 
dying  agony  in  the  most  perfect  manner,  ordered  one 
of  his  slaves  to  be  slaughtered  before  his  eyes,  that 
he  might  sketch  a man  writhing  in  the  pangs  of 
death.  Monster  of  ambition ! Yet,  he  is  worthy  of 
our  admiration  beside  the  debauchee,  who  would 
rob  virtue  of  its  coronet  of  honor.  For  he  painted 
to  cultivate  his  gemus,  and  please  the  world  by  his 
artistic  skill.  But  the  latter  ruins  to  gratify  a satanic 
love  of  sin.  What  fathomless  depths  of  guilt  in  the 
being  of  so  great  a sinner ! His  heart  is  a pestilent 


288 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


Dead  Sea,  in  which  at  least  one  Sodom  and  Gomor- 
rah is  ingulphed,  from  whose  surface  deadly  ex- 
halations rise,  and  on  whose  banks  not  a green 
thing  grows. 

Such  is  the  character  of  the  libertine ; and  now 
we  inquire,  how  is  it  formed  ? What  is  the  philos- 
ophy of  its  formation  ? In  reply,  we  answer,  it  hes 
in  the  operation  of  the  laws  considered,  — the  force 
and  direction  which  their  united  action  gives  to  aU 
the  passions  and  propensities  of  human  nature. 
For  these  are  ruled  by  association,  imitation,  assimi- 
lation, and  habit.  These  conspire  together  to  make 
the  man  what  he  is.  The  base  workmanship  was 
not  wuought  in  a day.  Long  since  he  began  to 
mingle  in  scenes  that  created  in  his  mind  polluting 
associations.  His  eye  rested  upon  obscene  pictmes 
or  characters.  His  mind  communed  with  fictitious 
and  disgusting  tales.  He  resorted  to  the  bfiliard- 
room,  the  theatre,  and  at  last  to  the  midnight  sym- 
posia. One  guilty  association  was  wed  to  another  ; 
imitation  began  to  make  rough  sketches  of  the  Ter- 
rible reality ; assimilation  gradually  moulded  over 
the  disposition  and  the  taste ; repetition  succeeding 
repetition,  until  the  most  damning  vice  was  warought 
into  a masterly  habit.  Thus  the  united  action  of 
these  laws  has  imbruted  humanity,  and  stricken 
from  the  soul  the  last  trace  of  every  manly  virtue. 
They  have  haunted  the  imagination  with  the  ghosts 
of  ugly  vices,  and  inscribed  the  walls  of  the  memory 
all  over  with  obscene  figures,  and  disgusting  sen- 
tences. Could  we  turn  that  filthy  mind  inside  out, 
and  trace  upon  its  imperishable  parchment  the  base 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHAEACTEK. 


289 


inscriptions,  we  should  not  wonder  that  the  dis- 
torted mental  and  moral  vision  saw  only  the  gilded 
forms  of  impmdty. 

I have  seen  a shattered  building  whose  interior 
walls  were  literally  covered  with  vile  pictures  and 
viler  sentiments.  It  was  to  me  an  expressive  symbol 
of  the  depraved  minds  of  those  who  had  been  there 
to  scratch  and  scrawl.  Upon  those  walls  the  law 
of  association  had  inscribed  what  it  had  before  in- 
scribed upon  the  mind.  Immoral  men  had  been 
unconsciously,  but  with  master-stroke,  delineating 
their  characters  there  — truthful  autobiographies. 
So  with  the  libertine,  whose  character  is  drawn  above. 

Another  law  having  to  do  with  the  formation  of 
character  is  that  of  Hereditary  Developments.  Es- 
tates descend  from  father  to  son  with  no  less  cer- 
tainty than  do  some  marked  traits  of  character,  both 
good  and  evil.  Procreated  and  perpetuated,  inborn 
and  inbred,  they  leave  then’  impressions  deep  down 
in  the  soul,  as  clear  and  undoubted  as  “ footprints  ” 
upon  the  “ old  red  sandstone.”  If  they  are  perni- 
cious characteristics,  it  is  weUnigh  as  difficult  to 
eradicate  them  as  it  is  to  eradicate  consumption 
and  scrofula  that  are  begotten  with  one’s  existence, 
and  taint  the  blood  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 

Without  prolonging  remarks  upon  this  law,  one 
character  may  be  cited,  by  way  of  illustration,  the 
leading  element  of  which  is  frequently  inherited.  It 
is  the  cynic,  — the  man  who  discovers  few  attractions 
in  his  feUow-men,  but  uncounted  delinquencies.  In 
a season  of  counter  opinions  and  principles,  he  is  a 
most  uncomfortable  companion  in  the  political 
world ; and,  in  the  church,  as  an  eccentric  divine  has 

25 


290 


LITE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


said,  “ the  crookedest  stick  that  grows  on  Zion’s  hill.” 
He  is  of  very  ancient  pedigree,  tracing  back  the 
ancestral  line  to  a sect  of  strange  philosophers,  called 
cynics,  who  lived  in  Pontus  about  three  hundred 
years  before  Christ.  They  gloried  in  disliking  what 
other  men  loved.  In  other  words,  their  vocation  was 
fault-finding.  Diogenes,  the  old  bachelor  who  lived 
in  a tub,  belonged  to  that  sect.  He  saw  so  little 
good  in  manldnd,  that  he  ran  through  the  streets  at 
mid-day,  with  a lantern  in  his  hand,  declaring  that  he 
was  searching  for  an  honest  man.  The  character  to 
whom  allusion  is  made  is  an  offshoot  of  that  ancient 
stock,  — a legitimate  descendant  of  old  Diogenes. 
He  passes  through  the  world  eyeing  everybody  as- 
kance, seeing  nothing  well  done  unless  done  by  him- 
self. When  he  handles  character,  he  is  a complete 
anatomist,  thrusting  the  tongue’s  dissecting  knife 
through  the  veins  and  arteries  of  reputation  at  a 
most  fearful  rate,  leaving  nothing  but  a ghostly  skel- 
eton when  the  work  is  completed.  His  forte  lies  in 
this  anatomical  investigation  of  character.  There  is 
only  one  strange  thing  in  the  science,  and  that  is, 
he  dissects  to  discover  all  the  putrid  ulcers  and  huge 
tumors  and  festering  sores  possible  — the  faults  of 
human  character  — disappointed  only  when  no  dis- 
ease is  found.  A true  picture  of  himself  and  com- 
rades at  their  work  may  be  seen  in  a rotten  carcass, 
overrun  with  the  cynics  of  a lower  order,  and  never 
so  happy  as  when  devouring  the  dissolving  carrion. 

Such  is  the  cynic ; and  a close  observation  will 
satisfy  every  person,  that,  in  a majority  of  instances, 
this  feature  of  his  character  is  inherited.  Run  back 
in  the  lineal  survey,  and  often  it  will  be  foimd  that 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHARACTER. 


291 


his  father,  and  earlier  ancestors,  possessed  the  same 
characteristic.  It  has  come  down  from  generation  to 
generation,  like  the  heir-loom  or  wasting  homestead. 

The  Law  of  Conscience  holds  an  important  place 
in  the  formation  of  character.  We  mean  not  the 
faculty  itself,  so  much  as  the  law  by  which  it  is  con- 
trolled, — the  same  as  that  which  governs  all  our 
powers,  namely : — It  is  strengthened  by  use,  it  is 
impaired  by  disuse.  It  is  not  by  reading  moral 
essays  that  this  faculty  is  improved.  It  is  by  a care- 
ful regard  to  moral  distinctions  that  it  becomes 
tender  and  active,  by  asking  the  question  concerning 
our  actions,  is  this  right  ? is  that  wrong  ? thus  bring- 
ing all  our  acts  to  a proper  test.  Facts  prove  that 
the  conscience  may  become  a more  powerful  agency 
of  restraint  than  even  statutes  and  decrees.  We 
read  of  men  whose  guilty  aetions  were  undisclosed, 
and  yet  who  “ seemed  to  themselves,”  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Melville,  “ to  be  surrounded  with  witnesses 
and  avengers,  so  that  the  sound  of  their  own  foot- 
tread  has  startled  them,  as  if  it  had  been  the  piercing 
cry  of  an  accuser  ; and  the  rustling  of  every  tree  and 
the  murmur  of  every  brook  has  sounded  like  the 
utterance  of  one  clamorous  for  their  punishment. 
They  have  felt  as  though,  in  the  absence  of  all  ac- 
cusation from  beings  of  their  own  race,  they  had 
arrayed  against  themselves  the  whole  visible  creation, 
sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and  forests  and  waters  growing 
vocal,  that  they  might  publish  their  crimes.”  True, 
such  examples  of  its  power  are  not  the  result  of  its 
healthful  discipline ; but  we  know  that  a similar 
power  it  may  acquire,  by  a careful  and  constant  re- 
gard to  its  decisions ; so  that  a man  would  almost 


292 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


as  soon  dare  the  flaming  wrath  of  God,  as  the  light- 
ning of  its  conviction ; or  provoke  the  trump  of 
Gabriel,  as  the  thunder  of  its  voice. 

Every  time  a person  does  right  he  fulfils  this  law, 
and  gains  thereby  a victory  over  his  base  propensities, 
and  is  absolutely  laying  up  a revenue  of  moral 
strength  for  seasons  of  temptation.  As  in  his  busi- 
ness he  provides  a capital,  upon  which  to  settle  back 
when  hard  times  convulse  the  mercantile  community, 
and  tottle  down  mighty  warehouses ; so  here  every 
instance  of  regard  to  the  decisions  of  conscience 
makes  a man  stronger  for  good,  builds  up  his  char- 
acter as  if  in  sohd  granite,  and  increases  his  moral 
force  to  a revenue  against  hard  times,  that  come  in 
morals  as  well  as  in  the  trades,  — seasons  of  tempta- 
tion and  moral  peril,  when  men  must  stand  or  fall 
upon  their  own  tried  virtues,  as  young  eagles  are 
jostled  from  their  nests  to  be  saved  by  their  own 
pinions,  or  fall  and  perish.  We  cannot  too  highly 
value  such  an  element  of  character. 

On  the  other  hand,  every  time  this  law  is  violated, 
it  bhnds  a man  to  moral  distinctions,  it  diminishes 
his  moral  power,  it  overcomes  his  aversion  to  sin,  so 
that  the  perpetration  of  a wrong,  which  once  would 
have  caused  his  feelings  to  revolt,  is  now  taken  upon 
the  soul  without  remorse.  By  every  repeated  wola- 
tion  of  its  mandates,  he  is  less  and  less  impelled  to 
do  right. 

Hence  it  follows,  that  whatever  blinds  men  to  mor- 
al distinctions,  is  sadly  wolating  this  law,  no  matter 
how  trifling  the  act.  The  most  trifling  immoral  act, 
from  the  very  fact  that  its  immorality  may  not  be  so 
readily  noticed,  may  be  most  dangerous. 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHAHACTBK. 


293 


Here  we  meet  a fact  which  this  philosophy  ex- 
plains. Many  a young  man  of  supposed  integrity 
has  commenced  business  with  as  much  credit  as  he 
could  desire,  and  closed  with  as  little.  To  many  it 
is  almost  unaccountable,  while  yet  an  examination 
may  show  it  to  be  less  strange.  There  are  certain 
characteristics  of  the  times  which  tend  directly  to 
blind  men  to  moral  distinctions,  and  hence  to  violate 
the  law  of  conscience.  Two  are  presented  for  illus- 
tration. 

The  first  is  that  corrupt  public  sentiment  which 
bestows  its  honors  upon  vice  instead  of  virtue ; or 
which,  at  least,  does  not  make  a distinction  between 
right  and  wrong  in  conferring  reward.  We  speak 
here  upon  no  doubtful  theme,  but  of  what  the  eye 
beholds.  We  see  that  in  filling  the  offices  of  the 
land,  the  distinction  between  virtue  and  vice  is  al- 
most annihilated.  There  are  men,  sharing  largely  in 
official  honors,  in  whose  souls  virtue  does  not  find  an 
abiding  place,  — a sound  moral  principle  would  die 
there  from  utter  loneliness ; men,  who,  stripped  of 
official  badges,  would  be  admitted  to  the  circle  of 
your  sons  and  daughters  no  sooner  than  a serpent  or 
an  alligator ; as  soon  would  you  turn  a raging  ox  in- 
to your  blooming  garden  to  pasture,  and  trample  on 
the  rose  and  flowering  almond,  as  admit  them  to  the 
familiar  intercourse  of  home;  for  among  them  are 
the  intemperate,  the  profane,  the  vulgar,  and  the 
licentious. 

Mark  a single  fact  with  the  common  people.  At- 
tach some  sounding  title  to  even  an  immoral  man’s 
name,  as  archbishop,  duke,  or  king,  and  send  him 
through  the  streets ; and  old  men  and  matrons,  young 
25* 


294 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


men  and  maidens,  will  throng  the  doors  and  windows 
of  house  and  shop,  and  possibly  a thousand  syco- 
phants wiU  press  through  the  crowd  to  touch  the  hem 
of  his  garment.  Few  inquire  what  his  character 
may  be ; for  the  sounding  title  awes  them  into  re- 
spect, and  there  is  a perfect  shower  of  bouquets, 
waving  handkerchiefs,  and  doffing  hats.  The  idea 
of  vudue  and  vice  is  annihilated  in  the  scene. 

So  with  wealth.  The  multitude  often  run  after  a 
rich,  more  than  after  a good  man.  Litroduce  a mill- 
ionaire into  any  community,  and,  character  or  no 
character,  a class  wiU  follow  him  with  the  most  ob- 
sequious demeanor.  "Wealth  and  honor  are  the 
world’s  two  idols.  The  question  of  right  and  wrong 
is  comparatively  lost  in  the  homage  paid  them. 
Hence  it  is  not  strange,  ffied  with  ambition,  and 
flushed  with  the  desire  of  honor  as  human  nature  is, 
that  the  law  of  conscience  is  disregarded,  when  the 
language  of  the  world  to  every  young  man  is,  in  the 
couplet  of  Pope,  — 

“ Get  place  and  vealth  if  possible  by  grace, 

If  not,  by  any  means  get  wealth  and  place.” 

The  other  characteristic  of  the  age,  closely  allied 
to  the  above,  is  the  counterfeiting  and  deception 
which  are  incorporated  into  business.  This  is  a 
money-getting  age.  There  have  been  ages  of  iron 
and  of  brass,  but  this  is  literaUy  an  age  of  gold. 
Gold  excites  the  mass  to  more  earnest  and  hearty 
efforts  than  God.  A California  is  worth  more  to  the 
multitude  than  a Canaan.  The  “ argumentum  ad 
crumenam,”  — an  argument  to  the  purse,  is  more 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  CHARACTER. 


295 


powerful  than  “ argumentum  ad  hominem — an 
argument  to  the  man.  Growing  out  of  this,  proba- 
bly, is  the  counterfeiting  and  deception  to  which  ref- 
erence is  had. 

The  food  upon  om-  tables,  and  the  clothes  upon 
our  backs,  were  they  gifted  with  speech,  would  tell  a 
story  that  ought  to  tingle  on  the  ear.  Coffee  com- 
pounded with  pulverized  peas,  — sugar  skilfully 
“ alumnized,”  — tea  flavored  with  herbs,  native  and 
exotic,  — spices  of  nameless  mixtures,  — and  lusty 
braces  of  chickens  two  years  old,  — these  are  a spec- 
imen of  our  lying  provisions.  Then  our  fine  Ger- 
man doeskin  is  a real  native  American,  — our  Irish 
linen  of  Yankee  manufacture,  and  half  cotton  at 
that,  — our  Brussels  carpets  fresh  from  some  youth- 
ful Lowell,  — our  French  caheoes  just  in  from  some 
Merrimack  Mills,  — our  French  hosiery  and  hats 
beautifully  stamped  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  with 
the  mark  of  Paris, — our  superfine  silk  paper  of  re- 
puted Parisian  quality,  on  which  the  preacher  writes 
his  sermon,  reminded  of  the  ninth  commandment 
at  every  stroke  of  the  pen,  is  the  best  that  rolls  over 
an  Amesbury  cylinder;  this  is  a specimen  of  our 
lying  apparel  and  fixtures.  Then  the  poor,  sinking, 
dying  patient  doses  himself  with  deception.  His 
strength-restoring  wine,  reported  fresh  from  the  vine- 
yards of  Portugal,  was  expressed  from  the  clusters  of 
New  England,  — his  London  porter  is  of  home  man- 
ufacture, possibly  the  product  of  some  “ Albany 
brewery,”  — his  cod  liver  oil  turns  out  to  be  the  veri- 
table sperm  once  dipped  from  the  head  of  a mighty 
whale, — and  with  the  numberless  catholicons,  whose 
fame  is  spread  through  the  land,  he  drinks  a dose  of 


296 


LIFE  AT  THE  FniESIDE. 


deception,  too  unmedicinal  to  cure,  and  too  harmless 
to  kill.  He  asks  for  bread  and  receives  a stone.,  for 
a fish  and  gets  a scorpion. 

K God  should  give  a voice  to  every  article  we  eat 
and  wear,  with  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  which 
deception  is  practised,  we  should  be  struck  deaf  with 
the  stunning  peal  that  would  roU  upon  the  ear- 
drum. Every  thing  is  counterfeited  from.  sUver  coin, 
to  character.  There  is  false  food,  false  apparel,  false 
medicine,  false  honor,  false  friendship,  false  patriot- 
ism, false  ethics,  false  religion,  and  false  every  thing. 

It  is  not  surprising,  that,  in  such  a state  of  things, 
the  young  man  in  search  of  his  fortune  loses  sight  of 
moral  distinctions,  and  thus  violates,  and  continues 
to  violate,  his  conscience.  It  may  seem  a small  mat- 
ter to  put  a foreign  stamp  upon  domestic  goods,  or 
to  seek  worldly  promotion  by  doubtful  instrumentali- 
ties ; but  it  is  inflicting  a wound  upon  conscience. 
It  destroys  the  distinction  between  virtue  and  vice, 
and  thus  maims  and  cripples  the  most  glorious  part 
of  human  nature.  In  this  way  the  times  make  prac- 
tical swindlers  philosophically. 

It  is  grand  and  ennobHng  to  abide  by  the  decis- 
ions of  conscience  amid  the  roar  of  life’s  business. 
To  be  able  to  look  the  world  steady  in  the  face,  ■^'ith 
unblanched  cheek  and  guiltless  eye ; and  to  say,  “ I 
have  WTonged  no  man,” — this  is  manhood’s  noblest  at- 
tribute. To  be  able  to  point  to  suffering  worldly  in- 
terest, — to  hours  of  darkness  and  frowning  danger, 
— the  scars  and  nail  prints  of  a persecuting  world,  — 
all  endured  for  “ conscience’  sake,”  this  is  the  sublime 
of  human  character.  Our  hearts  venerate  the  man 
who  takes  the  noble  stand  of  the  brave  Mag- 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHAEACTER. 


297 


yar,  Kossuth,  the  statesman  and  orator,  who,  when 
tempted  by  the  sultan  of  Turkey  to  renounce  the 
Christian  religion,  replied,  “ Welcome,  if  need  be, 
the  axe  and  the  gibbet ; but  curses  on  the  tongue 
that  dares  make  to  me  so  infamous  a proposal.” 
Men  record  such  examples  on  brass  and  marble,  be- 
cause they  exalt  the  conscience. 

Without  the  moral  element,  which  a regard  to  this 
law  insures,  character  is  worthless.  There  may  be 
splendid  endowments,  noble  attributes,  fashioned 
into  a character  that  shines ; but  it  is  only  with  a 
transient  glare. 

We  read  that  Potempkin,  a princely  Russian, 
erected  a gorgeous  palace  “ to  surprise  and  please  his 
imperial  mistress.  Huge  blocks  of  ice  were  pded 
one  upon  another.  Ionic  pillars  of  chastest, work- 
manship, in  ice,  formed  a noble  portico  ; and  a dome 
of  the  same  material  shone  in  the  sun,  which  had 
just  strength  enough  to  gild,  but  not  to  melt  it.  It 
glittered  afar,  like  a palace  of  diamonds ; but  there 
came  one  day  a warm  breeze  from  the  south,  and 
the  stately  building  dissolved  away,  till  none  were 
able  to  gather  up  the  fragments.”  Fit  symbol  of  a 
character  embellished  with  splendid  endowments, 
yet  devoid  of  this  saving  element! 

The  laws  which  have  been  enumerated  act  more 
or  less  in  conjunction  with  a mighty  force,  — the 
win.  This  deserves  here  a passing  consideration.  In 
the  formation  of  character  it  has  a powerful  influ- 
ence. With  the  gift  of  an  enchanter,  it  summons 
the  mental  and  moral  powers  to  the  Herculean  task. 
It  laughs  at  obstacles.  It  is  the  mental  engine  of 
nameless  power  that  drives  on  decision,  energy,  and 


298 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


perseverance  of  character.  When  the  whole  man  is 
under  its  control,  he  can  race  and  battle  with  the 
world.  Its  energy  sparkles  in  his  eye,  twitches  in 
his  nerves,  glows  on  his  cheek,  energizes  his  mind, 
and  electrifies  his  heart.  His  spirit,  motions,  eye, 
browr,  step,  words,  and  his  noble  soul,  — aU  make  a 
revelation  of  its  power.  Every  act  has  an  earnest- 
ness, determination,  vitality,  and  thrilling  meaning 
about  it.  He  not  only  “ strikes  while  the  iron  is  hot, 
but  he  keeps  it  hot  by  striking.”  He  verifies  the 
Latin  proverb,  “ Labor  omnia  vincit,”  — labor  con- 
quers all  things.  And  he  undertakes  a stupendous 
work  with  the  zeal  and  determination  of  Julius 
Csesar,  when  he  conquered  Pharnaces,  “ vend,  \'idi, 
vici,  — I came,  I saw,  I conquered.” 

It  .was  this  which  raised  Linnaeus,  Pareus, 
Badouin,  Purver,  and  Roger  Sherman  from  the 
bench  of  the  cobbler  to  the  chair  of  the  professor, 
and  the  seat  of  the  legislator.  It  wms  this  which 
shut  up  Demosthenes  in  his  subterranean  study,  and 
made  him  the  prince  of  orators.  It  was  this  which 
marked  the  life  of  that  Roman  senator,  wdio  ex- 
claimed to  the  affrighted  pUot  in  the  storm,  “ Fear 
not,  thou  bearest  Caesar  and  his  fortunes.” 

Such  is  the  power,  acting  in  harmony  wdth  men- 
tal and  moral  laws,  wdth  which  God  has  invested 
every  person,  to  be  employed  in  wmrking  out  his 
earthly  salvation.  It  is  a fearful  power  to  possess. 
“ Mere  power  may  be  used  for  any  purpose,  noble  or 
ignoble.  Gunpowder  may  blast  a path  for  the  rail 
car,  or  send  death  into  the  heart  of  a defenceless  city. 
Steam  may  propel  to  our  shores  the  friendly  vessel 
of  commerce,  or  the  hostile  naval  armament.”  The 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  CHARACTER. 


299 


rising  wind  may  swell  the  floating  canvas,  and  bear 
the  voyager  delighted  to  the  port,  or,  lashing  the  sea 
into  fury,  dash  his  bark,  all  shattered,  upon  a rock- 
bound  coast.  In  like  manner  this  power,  with  which 
God  has  invested  every  human  being,  may  prove  a 
blessing  or  a curse,  — an  instrument  to  be  wielded 
for  error  or  for  truth. 

At  this  point  it  would  be  a profitable  application 
of  the  subject  to  analyze  the  personal  history  of 
such  men  as  Byron,  Napoleon,  and  Robespierre,  and 
trace  the  operation  of  the  laws  enumerated  in  the 
formation  of  their  characters.  The  subject,  also, 
suggests  expansive  themes,  relative  to  the  under- 
standing of  this  mental  and  moral  philosophy  in  the 
training  of  children  and  youth,  and  the  points  of 
danger  and  encouragement  in  every  yoimg  man’s 
career.  But,  for  want  of  space,  all  this  must  be 
passed  in  silence. 

It  is  clear  that  the  formation  of  character  is  no 
hap-hazard  work.  There  is  no  chance  game  to  be 
played  in  working  out  our  earthly  destiny.  There  is 
no  being  born  under  lucky  stars ; that  belongs  to  hea- 
thenism, — a relic  of  Hindoo  astrology.  Philosophy 
is  “ a jack  at  all  trades  ; ” yet  in  none  more  active 
and  skilful  than  in  the  formation  of  character. 

Such  is  the  Philosophy  of  Character,  very  imper- 
fectly presented.  Yet,  superficialy  as  our  view 
has  been,  we  have  seen  enough  to  show  that  its 
faithful  fashioning  is  as  truly  an  art  as  that  which 
guided  the  chisel  of  Praxiteles,  or  the  brush  of  Ra- 
phael. As  we  ponder  the  mystic  machinery  with 
which  the  curious  workmanship  is  wrought,  we  are 
more  than  ever  impressed  with  the  pithy  lesson  of 


300 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Solon  — one  of  the  seven  wise  men  of  Greece  — 
“ gnothi  seauton,”  know  thyself  — a rare  attainment, 
even  by  those  who  have  soared  to  the  loftiest  heights, 
and  descended  to  the  profoundest  depths  of  knowl- 
edge. He  who  has  made  the  acquisition  is  more 
than  Bachelor  of  Arts  ; he  is  Master  of  Arts. 

The  soul  is  a harp  of  a thousand  strings,  and  few 
are  they  who  can  make  music  on  them  all.  A slight 
neglect  may  destroy  the  blissful  harmonies.  You 
have  listened  with  rapt  attention  to  the  strains  of 
melody  bursting  from  a fuU,  practised  orchestra. 
Note  swells  and  blends  wdth  note  in  enchanting 
sweetness.  Voice  soars  and  mingles  with  voice  in 
volumes  of  richest  sound.  Wave  after  wave  of  the 
sacred  song  pours  upon  the  hstening  spirit  to  capti- 
vate and  charm.  But  one  little  jar — one  discord- 
ant note  — wdU  break  the  melody,  and  waste  the 
music  on  the  air.  So  the  laws  of  God,  mental,  moral, 
and  material,  are  so  many  chords  strung  to  a uni- 
versal anthem ; and  he  wdio  dares  resist  the  philoso- 
phy of  his  being,  in  the  violation  of  the  simplest  of 
these  laws,  sunders  a chord,  and  strikes  a note  from 
the  harmonies  of  creation. 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


“ Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 
We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 

And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 
Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time; 

Footprints  that  perhaps  another. 

Sailing  o’er  life’s  solemn  main, 

A forlorn  and  shipwrecked  brother, 

Seeing,  shall  take  heart  again.” 

Longfellow. 


A PERFECT  young  man  we  do  not  expect  to  find 
in  this  world,  since  nothing  is  perfect ; but  we  may 
profitably  contemplate  a noble  _ model,  such  as  can 
be  attained.  Our  standard  better  be  too  high  than 
too  low,  — our  model  too  celestial  than  too  earthly. 
Our  natures  seem  to  have  been  created  with  refer- 
ence to  this  truth.  For,  in  regard  to  characters 
sketched  by  different  writers,  we  are  better  satisfied 
with  one  painted  in  too  high  colors  than  we  are  with 
the  opposite.  I recall  an  example.  Two  or  three 
years  since  a book  was  published,  in  which  the  char- 
acter of  a model  young  man  was  drawn  with  re- 
markable ability,  except  that  he  left  college  and  went 
to  the  city  to  serve  as  clerk  without  consulting  his 
parents.  He  did  it  with  the  view  of  aiding  his  indi- 
26  (301) 


302 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


gent  father  in  supporting  a large  and  dependent 
family,  — a commendable  motive ; yet  he  violated 
true  filial  obedience.  To  every  reader,  this  defect 
was  so  striking  that  the  offset  of  the  generous  mo- 
tive did  not  conceal  it.  Probably  every  reader  had 
the  same  feelings  in  regard  to  tliis  otherudse  well- 
drawn  character.  So  generally  was  disappointment 
expressed  in  regard  to  it,  that  in  a subsequent  edition 
of  the  work,  a note  of  such  a character  as  to  modify 
the  unpleasant  impression  was  appended.  About 
the  same  time  another  volume  was  pubhshed,  in 
which  the  picture  of  a child  was  presented  with 
almost  angehc  beauties.  The  reader  felt  that  it  was 
overwrought,  — too  seraphic  for  this  world  of  sin. 
Yet  we  have  never  heard  of  a single  person  who 
would  have  the  character  of  little  Eva  changed.  All 
loved  to  contemplate  her  more  than  human  loveh- 
ness,  and  exclaimed,  when  God  took  her  to  himself,' 
“ too  beautiful  for  earth  I ” 

Then  let  our  beau  ideal  of  a young  man  be  ele- 
vating and  dignified.  Let  nothing  low  or  grovelling 
enter  into  our  conception  of  the  character  which  he 
ought  to  maintain.  StUl,  let  it  be  attainable, — 
within  the  reach  of  their  number.  It  is  delightful  to 
behold  the  aged  sire  going  down  to  the  grave  wdth 
virtue’s  crown  of  glory  on  his  head ; and  yet,  may 
we  not  take  a view  of  the  young  man  which  shall 
render  a high,  virtuous  character  even  more  attrac- 
tive ? He  stands  upon  the  threshold  of  a life  that  is 
to  be  a blessing  or  a curse  to  the  family  and  the 
world,  as  well  as  the  germ  of  eternal  felicity  or  wo. 
He  is  to  engage  in  the  hard  conflict  of  life,  and  to 
live  or  die  hereafter  according  to  the  issue  of  the 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


303 


battle.  The  unexplored  future  is  before  him,  and 
with  such  a character  as  he  may  form,  with  God’s 
blessing,  he  will  run  a career  more  sublime  than  that 
of  ambitious  conquerors. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  more  difficult  at  the 
present  day  for  a young  man  to  attain  to  certain 
positions  of  influence  than  it  was  formerly.  The 
period  in  which  we  live  is  unlike  those  which  have 
preceded  it,  in  respect  to  improvement,  and  the 
spread  of  general  intelligence.  A writer  says,  “ The 
times  are  changing;  the  race  is  improving;  the 
masses  are  rising ; education  and  general  intelli- 
gence are  affecting  the  whole  population.  Ignorance 
of  men  and  things,  of  practical  philosophy,  of  the 
history  of  the  world,  of  the  doctrines  and  forms  of 
religion,  and  of  current  events,  is  now  positively  dis- 
graceful, and  is  reason  enough  why  any  young  man 
of  ordinary  opportunities  can  have  no  honorable 
place  in  good  society,  and  have  little  or  no  influ- 
ence.” 

Still,  this  state  of  things  ought  not  to  be  looked 
upon  as  a discouragement.  Properly  regarded,  this 
higher  standard  of  intelligence,  to  which  the  present 
age  has  attained,  should  arouse  the  young  man’s 
energies,  and  bring  him  out.  So  that,  while  it  may 
be  more  difficult  for  him  now  than  formerly  to  attain 
to  a given  degree  of  influence  and  usefulness,  the 
persuasive  thereto  is  greatly  augmented. 

The  first  quality  that  may  be  named  in  the  Beau 
Ideal  of  a Young  Man  is,  living  for  a high  moral  pur- 
pose. The  point  in  view  may  be  set  forth  by  the  fol- 
lowing quotation  from  Dr.  Chalmers.  “ Thousands  of 
men  breathe,  move,  and  live,  — pass  off  the  stage  of 


304 


LIPB  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


life,  and  are  heard  of  no  more.  Why  ? They  did 
not  a particle  of  good  in  the  world,  and  none  were 
blessed  by  them ; none  could  point  to  them  as  the 
instrument  of  their  redemption ; not  a line  they 
wrote,  not  a word  they  spoke,  could  be  recalled, 
and  so  they  perished  ; their  light  went  out  in  dark- 
ness, and  they  were  not  remembered  more  than  the 
insects  of  yesterday.  Will  you  thus  live  and  die, 
O man  immortal?  Live  for  soviething.  Do  good, 
and  leave  behind  you  a monument  of  virtue,  that 
the  storm  can  never  destroy.  Write  your  name  by 
Idndness,  love,  and  mercy  on  the  hearts  of  the  thou- 
sands you  come  in  contact  with  year  by  year,  and 
you  will  never  be  forgotten : No,  your  name,  — 
your  deeds,  will  be  as  legible  on  the  hearts  you  leave 
behind  as  the  stars  on  the  brow  of  evening.  Good 
deeds  wUl  shine  as  brightly  on  the  earth  as  the 
stars  of  heaven.” 

In  these  words  is  presented  the  aimless  character 
of  the  lives  of  multitudes.  With  them,  life  means 
little  or  nothing.  They  never  inquire  why  they  live. 
They  are  the  sport  of  circmnstances ; one  thing  to- 
day, another  to-moiTow.  They  have  no  particular 
standard  of  excellence  or  usefulness  at  which  to  aim. 
They  stiike  at  no  definite  mark.  It  is  in  morals, 
with  vast  numbers,  as  it  is  in  secular  things.  Hun- 
dreds and  thousands  go  to  our  large  cities  to  find 
employment,  without  having  decided  what  vocation 
they  ,wiU  follow.  Employment  is  their  object,  no 
matter  what.  So  they  become  grocers,  porters, 
clerks,  salesmen,  any  thing,  just  as  circumstances 
a]3pear  to  favor.  Perhaps  their  employment  changes 
as  often  as  the  moon.  There  is  no  settled,  fixed 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A TOUHG  MAN. 


305 


purpose  about  it.  And  thus  they  live  on  till  death 
puts  a period  to  their  fruitless  lives.  Just  so  it  is  in 
respect  to  moral  and  religious  ends,  — thousands  are 
aimless  as  accident  or  chance.  With  reference  to 
these  things  they  lay  no  plans,  form  no  resolutions, 
nor  indulge  any  anxiety.  They  live  to  no  purpose. 

This  is  true  of  a large  class  of  young  men.  There 
appears  to  be  a lack  of  foresight  on  the  part  of  many, 
at  least  with  reference  to  the  great  end  of  existence. 
They  do  not  appear  to  have  decided  what  they  will 
be  and  do,  further  than  to  follow  this  or  that  voca- 
tion, and  often  not  even  that. 

This  class  of  young  men  need  to  ponder  the  im- 
portant fact,  that  those  men  who  have  left  then- 
mark  upon  the  world  formed  a definite  purpose  in 
early  life,  and  pursued  it  with  unwearied  assiduity. 
Their  distinction  has  resulted  from  a singleness  of 
aim,  v/hich  was  manifest  at  every  stage  of  their  ca- 
reer. It  has  been  so  in  art,  science,  and  religion. 
Hence  the  fact,  that  man  has  seldom  distinguished 
himself,  except  in  one  thing.  The  life-purpose  of 
Herschel  was  to  master  the  science  of  Astronomy ; 
that  of  Newton,  to  compass  Natural  Philosophy ; 
that  of  Bowditch,  to  advance  Mathematics ; that  of 
Franldin,  to  investigate  the  laws  of  Electricity ; that 
of  Wilberforce  and  Buxton,  to  prosecute  the  work 
of  British  Emancipation ; that  of  Howard,  to  “ take 
the  guage  and  dimensions  of  misery,  depression,  and 
contempt”  in  the  prison-world  of  Europe;  that  of 
Luther,  to  establish  and  disseminate  the  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith  ; that  of  Chalmers,  Edwards, 
and  kindred  spirits,  to  expound  the  word  of  God. 
In  these  several  pursuits,  these  men  became  dis- 

26* 


306 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


tinguished  mainly  because  they  devoted  their  time 
and  abilities  to  them  with  singleness  of  purpose. 
Early  in  life  their  plan  was  laid  out,  — they  deter- 
mined to  do  a certain  work;  set  themselves  about 
it,  and  did  it. 

Others  can  accomplish  as  much  only  by  following 
their  bright  examples.  There  is  no  shorter  way  to 
usefulness,  — no  recently  discovered  air-Hne  route 
or  lightning  train  to  distinguished  influence.  In 
this  regard  “ the  former  times  ” were  as  good  as 
the  present,  — this  old-fashioned  way  of  aceomplish- 
ing,  superior  to  any  new  discoveries  relating  thereto. 

It  is  quite  necessary  that  the  young  man  should 
perceive  and  feel  that  life  means  something,  — that 
it  has  a moral  and  spiritual  significance,  — otherwise 
he  will  not  live  for  a high  moral  purpose.  He  must 
have  some  just  idea  of  the  sublime  realities  of  pro- 
bation. He  must  connect  it  in  his  thoughts  \wth 
future  retribution.  He  must  view  time  in  connec- 
tion with  eternity.  He  must  reflect  that  he  has  a 
soul  as  weU  as  a body,  — an  immortal  soul,  as  much 
more  valuable  than  the  flesh  in  which  it  tabernacles 
fes  heaven  is  more  desirable  than  earth.  With  this 
view  of  life  he  can  scarcely  fail  to  see  thafr“  every 
step  is  a word,  every  day  a sentence,  every  week  an 
oration,  every  year  a book,  full  of  meaning  as  the 
sun  is  of  light.”  Then  he  is  impelled  by  the  high 
promptings  of  his  moral  natm’e  to  live  for  a noble 
purpose. 

This  involves  the  idea  of  excelling,  or  being  the 
best,  in  one’s  life-work.  Not  that  he  would  excel  for 
the  sake  of  victory  and  honor,  but  in  obedience  to 
this  high  demand  of  duty,  — to  make  the  most  of  his 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  MAN. 


307 


abilities.  It  is  grand  to  see  a young  man  buckling 
on  his  armor  for  such  a contest.  It  is  what  the  world 
needs.  It  is  what  the  Church  needs.  The  trades 
and  professions  are  suffering  because  so  many  are 
satisfied  with  barely  a name  to  do.  Few,  compara- 
tively, aim  to  rise  from  year  to  year.  They  are  con- 
tented with  what  they  have  done  and  shared  in  days 
gone  by.  They  have  never  laid  themselves  out  for 
becoming  the  best  in  their  respective  pursuits,  and 
never  intend  to  do  it.  For  this  reason,  few  excel  in 
their  callings.  And  for  the  same  reason,  few  pro- 
fessing Christians  excel  in  holiness.  The  cause  of 
Christ  languishes  to-day  because  there  is  not  this 
high  aim  of  Christian  life,  among  the  members  of 
the  church,  to  be  the  best.  The  majority  are  sat- 
isfied with  being  as  good  as  they  have  been.  Each 
one  is  disposed  to  think  it  “ well  enough,”  if  he  be 
as  good  as  his  Christian  neighbor.  Hence  the  in- 
activity, the  slothfulness,  the  stupidity,  the  worldli- 
ness even,  of  the  church.  If  this  one  aim  could  be 
made  the  “ polestar  ” to  every  professing  Christian, 
and  henceforth  all  should  strive  to  excel  in  holiness, 
what  a change  would  characterize  the  people  of  Godd 
A new  era  would  dawn  upon  us,  and  the  church 
would  become  in  deed  and  truth  “ as  a city  set  on 
a hill,  whose  light  cannot  be  hid.”  I repeat,  the 
cause  of  religion  suffers  because  so  few  of  its  friends 
strive  to  be  the  best. 

A young  man  who  starts  in  life  with  this  intent 
adorns  even  his  secular  pursuit.  He  is  a model  in 
the  shop,  or  on  the  farm  ; in  the  school-room  or  store ; 
in  private  or  public  life.  In  the  church,  he  is  more 
than  language  can  describe.  He  is  an  ornament 


308 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKBSIDB. 


there,  brighter  and  more  valuable  than  mere  world- 
lings can  imagine.  He  becomes  its  pillar  before 
the  dew  of  his  youth  has  passed  away.  He  has 
influence  and  moral  power;  is  respected  and  loved. 
The  very  union  of  such  a quahty  with  early  man- 
hood is  in  itself  attractive.  It  is  so  befitting,  and  for 
that  reason  so  beautiful,  that  every  beholder  finds 
himself  unconsciously  charmed  by  the  exhibition. 

It  follows  from  the  foregoing,  that  such  a young 
man  as  I have  thus  far  described  will  possess  just 
views  of  worldly  possessions  and  position.  Over- 
estimating worldly  acquisitions  has  been  a rock 
upon  which  thousands  of  human  barks  have  gone 
to  pieces.  The  present  state  of  society  is  charac- 
terized by  factitious  distinctions,  and  none  is  more 
prominent  than  that  which  wealth  creates.  In  cer- 
tain circles  riches  are  indispensable  to  respectability 
and  influence.  If  a man  be  rich  he  is  welcomed  to 
these  circles,  though  his  heart  be  corrupt  to  the  core. 
No  questions  are  asked  as  to  how  he  acquired  his 
property,  whether  by  fair  means  or  foul.  Indeed  the 
idolatry,  or  money-worship,  is  carried  even  further 
than  this ; for  often  the  bare  appearance  of  wealth, 
though  the  person  be  actually  a bankrupt,  is  a sure 
passport  to  high  life.  If  a man  lives  in  a fine  house, 
keeps  a costly  carriage  and  many  ser\"ants,  and 
maintains  the  usual  show  of  wealth,  it  is  well  enough 
with  the  circles  named.  They  never  look  at  the 
heart,  and  are  very  likely  to  forget  the  past  in  their 
present  worship  at  the  shrine  of  Mammon.  This 
corrupt  social  state  exerts  a baneful  influence  upon 
young  men.  Society  is  thus  continually  tempting, 
and  even  forcing  them,  into  the  strife  for  money. 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


309 


Multitudes  regard  it  almost  as  the  “ one  thing  need- 
ful,” and  become  willing  at  last  to  sacrifice  every 
thing  for  gain.  They  place  it  above  character,  and 
even  above  the  “ crown  of  glory.”  This  is  no  hap- 
hazard assertion.  It  is  just  what  opens  to  the  view 
of  every  reader.  “ How  shall  I make  money  ? ” is 
the  inquiry  with  many  young  men,  rather  than,  “ how 
shall  I be  pure  in  heart,  and  win  a good  name  ? ” 

The  young  man  who  will  stand  up,  and  set  his 
face  as  a flint  against  such  a state  of  things,  and  say, 
“ character  before  money,  and  usefulness  before  pleas- 
ure,” is  a rare  specimen  of  manhood.  He  possesses 
that  noblest  kind  of  heroism,  which  few  who  have 
fought  to  the  death  on  battle  fields  have  possessed,  — 
the  moral  corn-age  to  resist  public  opinion,  and  pur- 
sue an  honorable  course  in  defiance  of  criticism  and 
reproach.  Thousands  have  fought  on  the  tented 
field  for  fear  of  the  reproach  and  ignominy  that 
attaches  to  deserters.  There  was  not  a particle  of 
true  patriotism  in  their  hearts ; they  fought  in  obe- 
dience to  public  opinion ; and  the  same  persons,  in 
certain  circumstances,  would  serve  the  devil  for  the 
same  reason.  Hence  the  true  manliness  of  him  who 
tramples  such  corrupt  social  sentiments  in  the  dust, 
and  gives  to  wealth,  and  all  earthly  acquisitions, 
their  proper  place.  It  is  a noble  stand.  It  augurs 
well  for  the  future  ; and  if  such  characters  abounded, 
a corrupt  society  would  not  hang  her  miU-stones 
about  so  many  necks  to  sink  them  in  wo. 

When  a young  man  has  such  a view  of  money 
that  he  will  enter  upon  any  pursuit,  however  sinful 
its  character,  for  higher  wages,  he  has  set  too  low  -a 
price  upon  virtue.  He  thinks  more  of  money  than 


310 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


he  ought.  Yet  wages  is  often  the  only  consideration. 
A useful,  noble  employment  is  left  for  one  of  the 
opposite  character,  because  more  gain  may  be  ac- 
quired. This  is  paying  too  dear  for  gold.  Money 
won  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  smallest  virtue  is  not 
gain,  but  loss.  Moral  banlcruptcy  is  the  inevi- 
table result.  A few  years  since,  a young  man  came 
to  the  writer  for  counsel  respecting  a new  situation 
which  was  offered  to  him.  He  was  a very  amiable, 
lovely,  moral  young  man,  — as  much  so  as  the  young 
ruler  in  the  Gospel.  I had  previously  said  to  his 
mother,  “ you  can  trust  him  amid  the  temptations  of 
the  city  without  anxiety.”  But  when  he  told  me 
what  his  proffered  situation  was,  his  character  greatly 
depreciated  in  my  estimation.  It  was  the  place  of 
bar-tender  in  a large  hotel  I That  he  even  thought 
of  engaging  in  such  a business  for  the  sake  of  better 
remuneration,  indicated  a serious  defect  in  his  char- 
acter which  I had  overlooked.  The  next  time  I saw 
his  mother  I advised  her  to  remove  him  from  the 
city.  Another  young  man,  whom  I well  know,  was 
applied  to  by  a grocer.  He  was  already  in  the  em- 
ployment of  another  trader.  As  an  inducement  for 
him  to  leave,  the  grocer  offered  him  several  dollars  a 
month  more  than  he  was  receiving.  The  young 
man  was  upon  the  point  of  accepting  the  offer,  when 
it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  traffic  in  strong 
drinks.  “ Do  you  seU  intoxicating  drinks  ? ” he  in- 
quired of  the  grocer.  He  received  an  affirmative 
answer.  “ Then  I wiU  not  work  for  you  for  any 
amount  of  money,”  was  his  quick  reply.  That  inci- 
dent greatly  elevated  the  character  of  that  young 
man  in  my  view.  He  set  character  above  money. 


BEAD  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


311 


There  was  something  dearer  to  him  than  high  wages. 
He  will  walk  unharmed  amid  temptations  that  will 
destroy  the  other. 

The  young  man  cannot  fail  to  see  that  here  is  an 
important  point.  We  all  regard  such  incidents  as 
good  or  evil  omens.  Toward  those  who  pursue  a 
useless  or  sinful  calling  we  cherish  a very  different 
class  of  feelings  from  those  that  pervade  our  breasts 
when  we  view  the  course  of  the  eminently  useful. 
For  example,  the  play-actor’s  avocation  is  to  amuse. 
It  has  no  higher  aim.  It  is  no  more  dignified. 
Compared  with  the  life  of  a missionary,  or  that  of  a 
really  useful  man  in  any  sphere,  it  appears  to  us 
very  small.  We  cannot  respect  such  a hfe.  He 
may  acquire  wealth,  live  in  splendor,  and  appear 
well,  but  we  cannot  forget  that  his  business  is,  at 
least,  belittling.  His  wealth  is  gained  at  too  dear  a 
rate. 

The  young  man  should  examine  this  matter  with 
unbiassed  mind.  It  is  a vital  point,  and  will  have 
much  to  do  with  the  issues  of  his  being.  Give 
wealth  its  place,  — far,  far  below  the  supreme  object 
of  life. 

^Consult  duty.  This  is  another  quality  of  the 
young  man  whose  character  I am  describing.  This 
word,  duty,  is  very  familiar,  and  is  spoken  much 
oftener  than  it  is  consulted.  Self-interest  is  con- 
sulted more  than  duty.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to 
talk  about  it : it  is  more  difficult  to  do  it.  Young 
men  are  not  disposed,  as  a class,  to  exalt  this  above 
questions  of  personal  interest.  They  have  reached 
that  period  of  life  when  they  are  looking  around  for 
themselves,  having  all  to  gain  or  lose.  At  such  a 


312 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


time,  self  appears  to  have  special  claims  upon  the 
attention.  It  is  quite  easy,  then,  for  a young  man 
to  argue  himself  into  the  opinion  that  he  has  no  one 
to  care  for  because  he  is  just  beginning  life.  In 
other  words,  he  can  easily  believe  that  his  duties  are 
owed  mainly  to  himself.  Indeed,  the  great  mass  of 
mankind  are  disposed  to  connect  duty  with  certain 
positions  in  life.  They  excuse  their  own  selfishness 
and  ease  because  they  are  not  situated  so  favorably 
as  Mr.  A.  or  Mr.  B.  Because  they  are  not  in  high 
positions  they  seem  to  imagine  that  they  have  little 
to  do  with  duty,  as  if  aU  the  duties  to  be  performed 
belonged  to  others.  It  is  often  true  that  individuals 
appear  to  desire  to  be  useful,  but  imagine  they  can- 
not be  in  thefi  particular  sphere.  They  are  aU  the 
time  sighing  that  they  have  not  dropped  into  the 
right  niche  of  life,  as  they  suppose,  and  wonder  that 
any  one,  situated  as  many  are,  can  trifle  with  re- 
sponsibility. This  is  one  of  the  grossest  errors  that 
can  be  entertained,  and  is  inimical  to  the  faithful  dis- 
charge of  duty. 

The  young  man  ought  to  understand  that  he  can 
be  useful  in  any  sphere  of  life.  Men  in  all  the  call- 
ings are  mutually  dependent,  so  that  the  faithful 
discharge  of  duty  in  the  humblest  position  renders 
the  doer  useful.  He  may  not  be  useful  on  so  large 
a scale  as  others,  but  if  his  usefulness  be  proportioned 
to  his  opportunity  and  abilities,  his  serwces  are  just 
as  acceptable  to  God,  and  ought  to  command  equal 
respect  among  men.  He  is  useful  who  makes  a 
box,  or  weaves  a yard  of  cloth,  as  really  as  he  who 
governs  a school,  or  rules  a State.  Moreover,  some- 
body must  be  useful  in  this  humble  way,  as  truly  as 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


313 


in  higher  positions.  The  little  rag-picker,  in  the 
streets  of  a populous  city,  has  done  something  per- 
haps toward  the  manufacturing  of  the  paper  of 
which  this  book  is  made.  Possibly  a number  of 
these  destitute  children  furnished  the  whole  mate- 
rials. So  that,  while  they  have  diligently  sought 
their  daily  bread  by  this  very  humble  work,  they 
have  contributed  somewhat  of  usefulness  to  the  gen- 
eral stock.  The  fact  ought  to  teach  the  reader  an 
important  lesson  upon  mutual  dependence.  When 
he  reads  a newspaper,  or  his  Bible,  let  him  reflect 
upon  the  contribution  of  the  poorest  children  to  its 
manufacture.  There  is  usefulness  even  here. 

Young  men  appear  to  imagine,  sometimes,  that 
certain  callings  confer  honor  upon  those  who  pursue 
them  ; and  this  modifies  their  ideas  of  duty.  But 
this  is  a very  pernicious  view.  No  calling  can  make 
an  ignoble  man  noble.  Make  a president  of  him, 
and  he  is  an  ignoble  president.  On  the  other  hand, 
make  a mechanic  of  a noble  man,  and  he  is  a noble 
mechanic.  The  sentiment  is  one  of  vast  importance 
for  young  men  to  ponder.  It  ought  to  be  inscribed 
upon  aU  the  trades  and  professions.  For,  doubtless, 
multitudes  refuse  to  meet  the  demands  of  duty,  and 
shrink  from  certain  useful  employments,  because  evil 
social  customs  and  maxims  make  them  appear  dis- 
honorable. It  is  lamentable  that  there  is  such  an 
appeal  to  human  pride  as  to  degrade,  in  the  view  of 
any  person,  an  honest  vocation.  For  really  they 
degrade  themselves  most  who  cherish  such  unmanly 
sensitiveness  upon  this  point.  He  who  does  not 
faithfully  meet  the  responsibilities  of  the  humblest 
sphere  has  not  the  qualities  of  heart  to  fit  him  for 
27 


314 


LIFE  AT  THE  EIRESIDB. 


the  discharge  of  higher  obligations.  There  is  a 
defect  in  his  character  that  is  ominous  of  future 
evd. 

Who  does  not  perceive  that  all  the  elements  of  a 
model  character  may  be  combined  in  that  of  the  com- 
mon laborer,  as  truly  as  in  that  of  a public  officer  ? 
What  are  these  elements?  Lidustry,  energy,  hon- 
esty, fidelity,  virtue,  and  religion.  May  not  the  young 
man  possess  these  in  the  shop,  or  on  the  farm,  as 
really  as  in  the  counting-room,  or  in  one  of  the 
learned  professions?  Surely  he  can.  How  clear, 
then,  that  a profession  does  not  confer  honor  upon 
man  ; but  man,  if  he  be  a man,  confers  honor  upon 
the  profession. 

“ Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise ; 

Act  well  your  part  — there  aU  the  honor  lies.” 

Upon  this  point  a v^Titer  has  the  foUo’ndng  excel- 
lent remarks.  “ Professions,  callings,  trades,  places, 
are  small  matters.  They  are  only  shops  in  which  to 
make  characters.  If  the  farm  makes  a Washington, 
honor  be  unto  the  farm.  K the  taUow-shop  makes 
a Franklin,  praise  be  to  the  taUow-shop.  If  the 
forge  gives  the  world  a Burritt,  let  the  forge  be  a 
place  of  distinction.  If  the  shoe-bench  has  en- 
tlu'oned  poets,  philanthropists,  and  statesmen,  let  it 
be  a seat  of  dignity.  No  calling  or  station  can 
honor  a man.  A man  is  above  a profession,  a 
throne,  or  a crown.  A true  character  is  the  only 
adornment  a man  can-  wear.  H he  dotes  on  the 
bubbles  of  place  and  station,  he  lacks  a true  charac- 
ter. If  place  was  a representative  of  character,  it 
would  be  vastly  important.  K the  bar  represented 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


315 


justice,  the  throne  righteous  authority,  the  counting- 
room  honest  trade,  then  would  they  demand  our  rev- 
erence. But  they  do  not,  or  but  poorly  represent 
them.  They  are  trifles  compared  with  character. 
Character  is  the  source  of  peace  or  misery.  It  glad- 
dens or  glooms  life,  suns  or  chills  the  soul.  It  is  Ihe 
devil  or  the  angel  to  pierce  or  crown  the  man.  It  is 
his  heaven  or  heU,  the  cloud  of  wrath  or  the  glory  of 
joy,  that  overarches  his  life.” 

“ Turn  it  then  as  we  will,  character  is  the  great 
desideratum  of  human  life.  This  truth,  sublime  in 
its  simplicity  and  powerful  in  its  beauty,  is  the  high- 
est lesson  of  religion,  the  first  that  youth  should  learn, 
the  last  that  age  should  forget.” 

Therefore  all  that  is  said  about  high  and  low  du- 
ties, in  the  sense  of  honor,  is  wi’ong.  One  duty  is 
just  as  high  as  another  in  this  regard.  There  is  dif- 
ference in  rank,  but  there  is  no  difference  in  duties, 
except  in  their  importance.  One  may  be  more  im- 
portant than  another,  and  hence  more  imperative,  but 
one  is  just  as  honorable  as  another.  He  who  meets 
aU  his  obligations  well  in  an  humble  sphere  exhibits 
just  as  much  fidelity  as  he  who  meets  all  his  obliga- 
tions equally  well  in  the  highest  position : and  why 
has  he  not  equal  claim  upon  the  respect  of  his  fellow 
men  ? He  has  discharged  his  duty,  and  that  is  aU 
a governor  or  president  can  do. 

Now,  the  young  man  who  bids  defiance  to  such 
false  opinions  of  men  as  I have  named,  and  asks 
himself,  in  relation  to  every  course  of  action,  “ what 
is  duty?”  is  so  far  a model.  We  may  hold  him  up 
for  the  self-serving  throng  to  look  at  and  copy.  It  is 
always  grand  to  see  men  consulting  personal  respon- 


816 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


sibility,  rather  than  self-interest  or  convenience.  One 
of  the  noblest  declarations  which  the  immortal 
Washington  ever  made  was  this : “ Whilst  I am 
in  office,  I shall  never  suffer  private  convenience  to 
interfere  with  what  I conceive  to  be  my  official 
duty.”  So  ought  every  man  to  resolve  that  con- 
venience shall  never  be  consulted  before  responsi- 
bility. Yet,  how  inclined  are  we  to  consult  conven- 
ience, even  in  matters  of  great  importance  ! Obli- 
gations, that  can  be  met  as  weU  as  not,  are  cheerfully 
discharged;  but  those  that  demand  sacrifice  and 
self-denial,  how  strangely  we  hesitate  and  falter  in 
the  discharge  of  these ! 

That  incident  in  the  boyhood  of  Franklin,  when 
he  walked  the  streets  of  Philadelphia,  eating  his 
humble  roll  of  bread,  because  a more  expensive  meal 
would  interfere  with  his  education,  possesses  a charm 
beyond  much  that  is  accounted  great  in  the  lives  of 
illustrious  men.  What  cared  he  for  the  laughs  and 
jeers  of  the  passing  crowd  ! He  had  a noble  object 
to  gain,  and  would  he  be  shamed  from  the  attempt 
to  reach  it  ? Not  he.  He  was  a hero  in  heart,  and 
exhibited  more  manliness  on  that  occasion  than 
nine  tenths  of  the  race  do  in  the  meridian  of  hfe. 

It  is  this  kind  of  moral  courage  which  is  needed  to 
exalt  this  matter  of  duty  in  the  view  of  young  men. 
This  is  the  great  demand  of  the  age  in  wliich  we 
live.  Thousands  of  young  men  are  destroyed  for 
the  want  of  it. 

Among  the  many  examples  which  might  be  cited, 
by  way  of  illustrating  the  subject  under  considera- 
tion, I select  a single  one.  On  one  cold  morning  of 
December,  in  1807,  a youth,  fifteen  years  of  age, 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  MAN. 


317 


walked  from  the  town  of  Hawley,  Massaehusetts,  to 
Plainfield,  the  distance  of  seven  miles,  to  see  a Mr. 
Maynard,  who  was  teaching  school  in  that  place. 
It  was  his  first  step  toward  getting  an  education. 
He  made  known  his  errand,  when  the  teacher  in- 
quired, “ Can  yom’  parents  render  you  any  assist- 
ance ? ” “ No  ! ” “ Have  you  any  friends  who  will 

help  you  ? ” “ No ! ” “ How  then  do  you  expect  to 

obtain  an  education  ? ” “I  don’t  know,  but  I thought 
I would  come  and  see  you.”  The  truth  was,  the 
youth  had  a new  heart,  and  it  caused  him  to  ponder 
his  obligations  to  his  fellow-men  and  his  God,  and 
now  he  desired  to  qualify  himself  for  doing  good. 
A sense  of  duty  impelled  him  to  take  this  step,  in 
the  face  of  all  discouragements.  Who  will  not  say, 
that  there  is  a greatness  of  soul  in  such  a measm’e 
which  deserves  a tribute  of  respect?  To  see  a 
youth,  single-handed  and  alone,  start  off  upon  such 
a glorious  fife-mission,  in  obedience  to  the  prompt- 
ings of  duty^  defying  poverty  and  difficulties,  and 
every  other  form  of  adversity,  — this  is  a rare  devel- 
opment of  humanity!  That  youth  succeeded,  as 
every  one  of  kindred  spirit  usually  does,  and  he  is 
now  our  distinguished  missionary.  Dr.  King,  of 
Greece.  When  we  are  made  acquainted  with  this 
fact  of  his  youth,  we  are  no  longer  surprised  at  his 
fortitude,  and  fidelity  to  Christ,  in  meeting  the  al- 
most unparalleled  trials  of  his  missionary  career. 

Another  quality  to  be  named  in  the  beau-ideal  of 
a young  man  is  benevolence,  in  which  word  is  in- 
cluded kindness,  good-will,  love,  sympathy,  generos- 
ity. The  term,  in  a comprehensive  sense,  embraces 
these.  No  development  of  manhood  is  more  charm- 

27* 


318 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


ing  than  this.  It  presents  the  best  side  of  the  moral 
nature ; and  in  such  an  age  as  the  present,  when 
want  and  suffering  abound,  it  is  doubly  attractive. 
That  selfishness  which  asks  about  every  work  and 
enterprise,  “ shall  J be  benefited  by  it?  Will  my  in- 
terests be  promoted  thereby  ? ” as  if  there  were  no 
other  interests  to  be  cared  for,  is  very  contemptible. 
He  who  can  live  in  this  world  of  sin  and  sorrow 
without  having  his  heart  moved  with  pity  to  the 
lowest  depth  of  feeling,  is  not  prepared  to  live.  His 
manhood  is  a small  affair. 

There  is  an  incident  in  the  early  life  of  the  distin- 
guished Enghsh  merchant,  Samuel  Budgett,  Illustra- 
tive of  both  a high  regard  to  duty  and  the  absence 
of  selfishness.  I will  give  it  in  his  own  words. 
“ About  this  time,  I was  in  a great  strait  between 
tt\m  courses  of  life ; as  to  whether  I had  better  di- 
rect my  attention  to  obtaining  a qualification  for 
going  out  as  a missionary,  or  to  prepare  for  business. 
On  the  one  hand,  I had  a great  desire  to  be  useful  in 
a spiritual  point  of  view  ; on  the  other,  I felt  sensibly 
the  strong  claims  which  my  family  had  on  my  efforts 
in  a pecuniary  way.  One  day,  as  I was  riding  along 
on  my  father’s  horse,  so  deeply  was  I engaged  in  the 
absorbing  question,  that  I fell  into  a reverie.  I remem- 
ber imagining,  first,  what  advantages  would  be  like- 
ly to  accrue  to  the  family  by  my  diligently  pursuing 
business  ; and  again,  I imagined  myself  transported 
to  some  clime  as  a missionary,  engaged  in  preaching 
the  gospel  to  the  heathen,  and  almost  fancied  myself 
kneeling  under  the  bushes  and  among  the  rocks, 
drawing  down,  by  faith  and  prayer,  blessings  on  my 
family ; and  so  deeply  was  my  mind  absorbed  at  that 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNG  MAN. 


319 


instant,  that  I entnely  lost  sight  of  where  I was  going, 
nor  do  I loiow  how  long  I continued  in  that  state. 
All  I remember  is,  that  when  I awoke  from  the  rev- 
erie I found  the  bridle  loose  from  my  hand  on  the 
horse’s  neck,  and  he  standing  under  a large  tree  in  a 
lane,  eating  grass ; and  it  appeared  to  me  that  I had 
been  for  a considerable  time  surrounded  by  a large 
concourse  of  people,  whom  I had  been  entreating 
with  feelings  of  the  deepest  interest  to  flee  from  the 
wrath  to  come,  and  to  accept  of  present  salvation 
through  faith  in  Christ.  One  thing  is  certain, — I 
had  been  weeping  a great  deal,  as  the  point  of  the 
saddle  and  the  horse’s  shoulders  were  wet  with  my 
tears ; and  I rode  home  with  feelings  of  conscious 
dignity  and  peace,  such  as  I cannot  describe ; and 
I almost  thought  of  giving  up  aU  idea  of  business, 
and  devoting  myself  to  a preparation  for  the  work  of 
the  ministry.  But,  from  a fancied  consciousness  of 
my  want  of  capacity,  and  my  want  of  education,  or 
means  of  obtaining  it,  I felt  a fear  of  mentioning  my 
impressions  to  any  person  who  might  have  assisted 
me.  I thought  I must  plod  on  as  I could,  and  get 
my  bread  and  help  my  family.” 

Here  was  a young  man  revolving  the  great  ques- 
tion of  duty  and  benevolenee,  without  a particle  of 
selfishness  appearing  in  his  aim.  The  good  of  oth- 
ers was  the  great  consideration  which  animated  his 
soul,  and  opened  a fountain  of  tears  in  his  eyes. 
Self  was  forgotten  in  the  view  of  others’  suflerings 
and  wants,  and  when  the  final  decision  was  made,  it 
had  in  view  the  demands  of  those  around  him.  His 
after-life  of  benevolence,  in  which  he  contributed 


320 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


several  hundred  thousand  dollars,  shows  that  God 
ordered  his  steps  for  the  good  of  mankind. 

Such  an  exhibition  of  self-forgetfulness  in  laying 
life  plans  is  magnanimous,  and  the  young  man  who 
cultivates  a kindred  spuit  will  draw  admirers  around 
him  upon  every  side.  Compared  with  that  abound- 
ing selfishness  which  discloses  itself  in  pleasure- 
seeking and  worldly  gains,  it  is  dignified  and  excel- 
lent beyond  description.  The  young  man  who 
spends  liis  money  for  self-gratification  in  the  ways 
of  the  world,  without  bestowmg  even  small  contribu- 
tions upon  objects  of  benevolence,  dwindles  away 
into  insignificance  and  meanness  beside  such  a noble 
character.  What  is  wealth,  and  ancestral  honors, 
and  sparkling  diadems,  in  the  scale  with  such  a soul  ? 
Ephemeral  things,  not  worth  the  attention  of  immor- 
tal beings,  — mere  bubbles,  that  flash  and  explode  the 
same  minute,  upon  the  stream  of  time.  This  same 
young  man  closed  his  fife  as  gloriously  as  he  began 
it,  as  we  might  expect  would  be  the  case  with  such  a 
person.  He  said  in  the  dying  hour,  “ I am  going  the 
way  of  aU  flesh ; but,  bless  God,  I am  ready : I trust 
in  the  merits  of  my  Redeemer.”  Then,  alluding  to 
the  near  prospect  of  his  dissolution,  he  said,  “ I care 
not  when  or  where  or  how ; glory  be  to  God ! ” 

His  life  was  a beautiful  illustration  of  Wesley’s 
maxim  in  practice : “ Make  aU  you  can,  save  aU 
you  can,  give  all  you  can.” 

Mr.  Budgett’s  biographer,  spealdng  of  this  trait  of 
his  character  in  his  treatment  of  employees,  addresses 
the  following  remarks  to  masters.  We  quote  them, 
that  yomig  men  may  see  the  growth  of  a sterling 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


321 


virtue,  which  sprang  up  and  was  nurtured  in  early 
manhood.  “ Do  as  a man  and  as  a Christian,  I say, 
do  let  them  feel  that  you  are  a friend  and  a brother ; 
that  you  think  of  them,  feel  for  them,  love  them ; do 
spend  time  and  money  to  make  them  happy.  When 
you  prosper,  let  them  have  some  slight  share  in  your 
prosperity ; better  make  fifty  cottages  a blanket 
warmer  for  the  winter,  than  make  your  own  mansion 
a shade  more  splendid.  K you  net  five  thousand  on 
the  year,  what  great  feat  would  it  be  if  one  thousand 
went  to  spread  satisfaction  and  comfort  around  you  ? 
Not  in  indiscriminate  bounties  ; you  should  not  dis- 
tribute as  a machine,  but  as  a master,  giving  most  to 
those  whose  aid  has  most  contributed  to  the  result, 
and  then,  (among  those  whose  work  would  just  have 
been  the  same,  and  done  in  the  same  way  had  all 
been  going  to  wreck,  as  it  was  when  all  was  prosper- 
ing,) choose  the  best  and  most  worthy  to  receive  the 
most ; but  in  a day  when  much  is  gathered,  let  all 
have  a taste.  One  year,  Mr.  Budgett  expected  that 
the  profits  would  be  large ; he  fixed  beforehand  on  a 
certain  sum,  and  said,  ‘ So  much  wiU  be  the  well, 
and  all  that  runs  over  shall  go  among  the  business.^ 
When  they  had  proceeded  far  enough  to  see  how 
things  would  turn,  he  said,  ‘ The  well  is  full ; ’ and 
it  did  run  over  a very  large  amount,  and  many  of 
those  below  him  were  made  well  aware  of  it.  The 
receipts,  the  profits,  the  gifts  of  the  year,  I do  not 
know ; but  one  who  was  a witness  of  it  all  told  me 
enough  to  make  me  feel  that,  in  what  I have  written 
above,  I am  not  running  wild  with  theory,  but  com- 
mending things  which  might  be  done.  He  would 
often  say  to  his  heads  of  departments  and  travellers, 


322 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


‘ My  business ! It  is  not  my  business ; it  is  ours' 
All  masters  should  try  to  diffuse  that  feeling,  and 
thereby  lead  those  who  work  with  them  to  feel  with 
them.” 

The  foregoing  implies  another  quality.  It  is  that 
of  filial  and  fraternal  regard.  The  young  man  has  a 
character  to  maintain  at  home.  There  are  those  w’ho 
are  patterns  of  propriety  abroad,  but  grossly  at  fault  in 
the  domestic  circle.  They  dishonor  their  parents,  and 
exhibit  no  strong  attachment  to  brothers  and  sisters. 
It  is  one  of  the  saddest  pictures  in  the  book  of  time. 
Wherever  it  exists,  it  foreshadow'S  futm-e  mihap- 
piness,  and  possibly  vice.  When  I see  a young  man 
w’ho  is  indiflerent  to  deserving  parents  and  faithful 
sisters,  I know  that  the  darkest  side  of  his  char- 
acter is  not  seen.  I expect  that  as  time  rolls  on  he 
wiU  make  painful  revelations  of  himself  in  the  cir- 
cles where  he  moves.  He  has  begun  his  career  by 
sowing  to  the  wind,  and  he  will  reap  the  whirhvind. 
The  seeds  of  vice  and  crime  are  in  his  soul,  and 
contact  with  the  corruptions  of  the  world  w'lll  ger- 
minate them. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  young  man  who  recog- 
nizes the  pecuhar  responsibilities  of  home,  and 
strives  to  acquit  himself  there  as  honorably  as  he 
does  abroad,  bids  fair  to  adorn  wiiatever  profession 
he  selects.  Recognizing  the  duties  wiiich  he  owes 
to  the  family,  and  faithfully  discharging  them,  he  is 
a bright  example  of  filial  and  fraternal  fidelity. 

When  Samuel  Budget!,  to  whom  we  have  re- 
ferred, w^as  on  the  eve  of  his  apprenticeship,  he  had 
laid  up,  by  rigid  economy,  thirty  pounds  ; and  wfith  a 
spirit  which  puts  to  blush  the  unfilial  acts  that  mar 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNG  MAN. 


323 


the  home-scenes  of  the  world,  he  gave  it  all  to  his 
needy  parents,  and  started  off  to  his  new  sphere  of 
toil  without  a cent  in  his  pocket.  Noble  youth ! 
The  blessing  of  thy  parents’  God  shall  rest  upon 
thee ! When  others  fall,  thou  shalt  rise ! When 
misfortune  sinks  other  crafts  in  its  driving  storm, 
thine  shall  outride  the  gale ! When  tearless  eyes 
gaze  upon  the  funeral  corse  of  others,  weeping  hun- 
ch'eds  shall  follow  thee  to  thy  grave!  And  when 
obhvion  absorbs  the  memories  of  the  mass  of  mer- 
chants, thine  own  shall  be  enshrined  in  the  hearts  of 
thousands ! 

Did  not  the  noble  act  promise  as  much  as  this  ? 
On  another  occasion  he  vahantly  parted  with  his 
last  cent  to  aid  two  worthy  sisters,  and  once  more 
faced  a frowning  world,  penniless.  Did  he  not  bid 
fair  to  rise  high,  be  loved  much,  and  die  lamented  ? 

Thus  it  was,  God  gave  him  riches,  honor,  in- 
fluence ; and  when  he  died,  the  whole  community 
wept  over  his  grave.  The  shops  were  closed,  busi- 
ness ceased,  and  the  countenance  of  every  citizen 
was  sad.  At  his  burial  the  minister  spoke,  “ not  in 
gi'aceful  and  balanced  eulogies,  but  with  a gush  of 
hearty  regard,  that  was  not  to  be  framed  up  and 
gilded.”  He  spoke  of  worth  and  bounties  as  of 
things  that  all  present  knew  as  well  as  he  ; and  as 
he  spoke,  all  faces  gathered  feeling.  “ Those  hands,” 
he  cried,  pointing  to  the  coffined  remains,  “ have 
given  away  then  hundi’eds  upon  hundreds.”  And 
then,  perhaps,  never  were  seen  so  many  men  melted. 
Many  an  eye  was  full,  and  many  an  eye  ran  over. 
“ This  is  a remarkable  funeral,”  said  a stranger  to  an 
aged  man  in  the  crowd.  “ Yes,  sir,”  he  replied, 


324 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


“ such  a one  as  we  never  had  in  Kingswood  before. 
The  best  man  in  Kingswood  gone  to-day ! ” 

“ Were  you  employed  by  the  deceased  merchant?  ” 
the  same  stranger  asked  another  mourner.  “ Yes,  sir, 
for  seventeen  years,”  he  answered,  and  added  with 
emotion,  “ Ah,  sir ! a great  man  has  fallen ! ” 

“ No  doubt  he  was  an  important  man  in  the 
neighborhood,”  the  stranger  rejoined. 

“ In  the  neighborhood ! ” replied  the  old  man, 
“ there  was  not  his  equal  in  aU  England.  No  tongue 
can  tell  aU  that  man  did.” 

And  thus  he  died,  leaving  a monument  more  en- 
during than  brass  or  marble,  — the  grateful  remem- 
brance of  mourning  thousands. 

Let  me  say  to  young  men,  that  Budgett  never 
made  such  a good  investment  in  all  his  life  as  that 
of  the  thirty  pounds.  That  was  made  at  a time  of 
life,  and  in  circumstances,  of  peculiar  interest.  It 
was  well  suited  to  influence  his  whole  life.  There 
was  character  in  it.  There  was  principle  in  it,  such 
as  defied  poverty,  and  the  world’s  proud  contempt. 
Such  a son  is  destined  to  act  a noble  part  in  the 
world.  Though  his  parents  dwell  in  a hovel,  and  he 
himself  feels  the  pinch  of  squahd  want,  the  future 
will  lift  him  into  fame.  His  age  wiU  repose  under 
the  horn  of  plenty,  and  in  the  bower  of  peace. 

Rev.  Hubbard  Winslow  has  so  forcibly  presented 
the  anguish  occasioned  by  a vicious  young  man  at 
home,  that  I quote  his  words  in  fuU.  “ How  much 
within  your  power,”  he  says,  “ is  the  peace,  honor, 
and  happiness  of  the  whole  family  of  which  you  are 
a member ! Go,  look  into  that  domestic  circle.  It 
is  a numerous,  prosperous,  and  might  have  been  a 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  MAN. 


325 


happy,  family.  By  diligence,  with  the  favor  of  Prov- 
idence, the  father  has  secured  the  means  of  educa- 
ting his  children,  and  setting  them  forth  in  life  with 
every  needful  advantage. 

“ An  affectionate  and  devoted  mother  has  done  her 
part  well  towards  diffusing  sunshine  and  happiness 
over  the  household.  The  daughters  are  all  that 
could  be  desired  to  make  themselves  and  their  family 
reahze  the  perfection  of  domestic  bhss,  — intelligent, 
industrious,  amiable,  accomplished,  pious.  The 
sons,  too,  with  one  exception,  are  doing  well.  To 
most  beholders,  it  is  the  happiest  of  famihes  — how 
frequently  an  object  of  envy ! 

“ Yet  look  again  more  closely.  Do  you  not  see 
marks  of  anxiety  and  of  affliction  on  that  father’s 
brow  ? Do  you  not  sometimes  see  the  unutterable 
yearnings  of  a mother’s  heart  depicted  on  her  coun- 
tenance? Do  you  never  see  those  sons  looking 
gloomy  and  sad?  Do  you  not  sometimes  observe 
the  cheeks  of  those  daughters  crimsoned  with  shame, 
and  their  eyes  red  with  weeping  ? What  meaneth 
all  this  ? There  is  one  dissipated  son  and  brother  ! 
He  is  the  disgrace  and  torment  of  the  whole  family. 
He  perhaps  went  from  home  into  the  city  a fair  and 
promising  youth,  — but  he  is  fallen.  And  who  shall 
count  the  tears  and  the  sufferings,  which  his  fall  has 
already  occasioned  ? Who  can  teU  how  many  sor- 
rows yet  remain  to  that  distressed  and  afflicted 
family,  from  the  conduct  of  this  wretched  member  ? 
How  malignant  is  sin,  that  it  can  shoot  its  venom 
so  widely  and  strike  its  fangs  so  deeply  ; causing  the 
innocent  to  suffer  with  the  guilty. 

“ But  this  is  not  aU,  nor  the  worst  part.  A son,  and 

28 


326 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


especially  an  elder  son,  has  great  moral  influence 
over  the  whole  family  to  which  he  belongs.  Sup- 
pose you  are  living  at  home,  with  your  sisters  and 
younger  brothers  around  you  ; if  you  take  the  down- 
ward course,  the  chances  are  very  strong  that  you 
win  draw  some  or  all  of  them  downward  tvith  you. 
In  how  many  famflies  do  we  see  striking  illustrations 
of  this!  How  frequently  does  it  happen  that  the 
fate  of  a numerous  family  turns,  in  a great  measure, 
upon  the  character  and  course  of  one  or  two  of  the 
elder  brothers ! ” 

Young  men  often  render  the  family  unhappy  and 
even  wretched  without  designing  any  such  thing. 
Indeed,  they  sometimes  do  this  when  acting  with 
the  consent  of  their  parents.  It  is  a matter  that  de- 
serves to  be  pondered,  as  a due  regard  to  it  may 
spare  long  years  of  bitterest  sorrow.  The  following 
fact  will  illustrate  this  part  of  the  subject.  About 
two  years  ago,  a young  man,  pleasantly  situated  in 
a home  of  affluence,  conceived  the  idea  of  going  to 
California  in  comjjany  with  an  acquaintance.  His 
parents,  particularly  his  mother,  could  scarcely  en- 
dure the  thought  of  his  going  to  that  distant  region. 
Of  course  they  were  totally  unwilling  that  he  should 
go.  He,  howevei',  persevered  in  pleading  for  their 
consent.  He  said  that,  although  he  would  never  go 
without  their  consent,  he  never  should  be  satisfied  if 
he  remained  at  home.  His  importunities  were  so 
earnest  and  long  continued,  that  his  parents  yielded, 
and  reluctantly  said,  “ you  may  go.”  Now  his  joy 
was  fuU.  His  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in  mak- 
ing preparations  for  leaving  home.  He,  doubtless, 
thought  nothing  of  probabilities  and  possibilities  con- 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  BIAN. 


327 


cerning  sickness  and  death.  Golden  dreams,  and 
visions  of  bright  and  joyous  days,  occupied  his 
mind.  He  saw  only  wealth  and  happiness,  and  gen- 
eral prosperity,  in  the  future. 

The  day  for  his  departure  arrived.  It  was  a sad  day 
to  the  indulgent  parents.  Many  and  bitter  tears  they 
shed,  as  their  son  turned  his  back  upon  home,  — and 
left.  Suffice  to  say,  that  before  he  reached  San 
Francisco  he  was  taken  sick,  and  died  within  a week 
after  he  landed.  The  sad  intelligence  was  borne 
back  to  the  family,  — and  oh ! what  a scene  of  an- 
guish ! 

It  was  the  writer’s  privilege  to  administer  consola- 
tion to  the  bereaved  parents.  He  met  them  a few 
hours  after  the  mournful  tidings  reached  them. 
Never  can  he  forget  the  burst  of  anguish  that  came 
from  both  their  hearts  ! Language  fails  to  describe 
such  sorrow  as  theirs ! Sobs,  groans,  wild  ejacula- 
tions, told  that  their  hearts  were  weUnigh  crushed. 
AH  occasioned  by  one  unnatural  — no,  not  this  ; 
for  he  would  not  leave  his  home  until  his  mother 
said  “ go,  my  son.”  This  was  well, — evidence  of 
regard  for  that  loving  parent.  All  occasioned,  then, 
by  one  too  inconsiderate  son ! May  we  not  say  this, 
inconsiderate  ? He  did  not  mean  to  start  a tear  from 
their  eyes,  or  inflict  one  pang  upon  their  hearts.  For 
the  world  he  would  not  have  done  this  intentionally. 
But,  then,  he  besought  them  beyond  measure  to  yield 
their  consent.  He  caused  them  to  feel  that  an  ab- 
solute denial  of  his  wishes  might  lead  to  some- 
thing worse  than  parting  with  him.  This  was  in- 
considerate — wrong. 

As  I communed  with  those  stricken  parents,  thus 


328 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


afflicted  in  their  advanced  age,  and  saw  the  deep, 
unutterable  anguish  of  their  hearts,  perhaps  saddened 
and  gloomed  for  life,  I wished  that  every  young  man 
in  the  land  might  witness  the  scene,  in  order  to  learn 
a most  useful  and  important  lesson.  Downright 
recklessness  is  not  necessary  to  bring  gray  hairs 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  The  lack  of  considera- 
tion may  entail  sorrow  that  baffles  description,  as  ihe 
above  example  clearly  proves. 

Another  characteristic  of  such  a young  man  as  I 
am  describing  is  principle.  He  is  not  a creature  of 
impulse  nor  circumstances.  He  is  not  blown  about 
by  every  wind  of  doctrine.  His  moral  character  is 
not  doubtful.  His  integrity  of  purpose  is  transpar- 
ent as  crystal,  and  firm  as  the  everlasting  hills.  His 
honesty  is  “ clear  as  the  sun,  fair  as  the  moon,  and 
(to  aU  tempters)  terrible  as  an  army  with  banners.” 
He  does  right  because  it  is  right.  Multitudes  do 
right  for  the  benefit  that  will  result  therefrom.  They 
may  have  an  eye  upon  popularit)’',  or  some  other 
bauble.  They  may  act  upon  the  conviction  that 
“ honesty  is  the  best  policy  ; ” and  it  may  be  indeed 
policy  with  them,  and  nothing  higher.  Not  such  was 
the  honesty  which  the  great  Washington  spoke, 
when  he  said,  “ I hope  I shall  always  possess  firm- 
ness and  virtue  enough  to  maintain,  what  I con- 
sider the  most  enviable  of  all  titles,  the  characier 
of  an  ‘ honest  man.’  ” Not  such  was  the  right  to 
which  Henry  Clay  referred,  when  he  said,  “ I had 
rather  be  right  than  President.”  There  is  a principle 
of  moral  action,  which  knows  no  change,  and  yields 
to  no  contingencies,  in  the  strength  of  which  a man 
fulfils  the  divine  injunction : “ Let  thine  eyes  look 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNO  MAH. 


329 


right  on,  and  let  thine  eyelids  look  straight  before 
thee.  Ponder  the  path  of  thy  feet,  and  let  aU  thy 
ways  be  established.” 

On  one  occasion  the  English  merchant,  of  whom 
we  have  twice  spoken,  was  called  upon  by  a man 
who  had  discovered  a way  of  making  mock  vinegar 
and  selling  it  for  real.  He  desired  Mr.  B.  to  cooper- 
ate with  him.  “ What ! ” exclaimed  Mr.  Budget!, 
when  the  man  had  told  his  story  ; “ you  want  to  lead 
me  into  dealing  like  this  ? If  you  are  resolved  to 
go  to  heM  yourself,  why  should  you  try  to  drag 
me  with  you  ? ” “ And  with  words  of  stinging 

rebuke  he  dismissed  this  emissary  of  evil,  who,  wish- 
ing to  bribe  him  to  sin,  had  used  religion  as  a card 
of  introduction.”  He  was  firm  against  aU  tempta- 
tions, so  that  such  proposals  dropped  harmless  at  his 
feet.  The  incident  illustrates  what  we  mean  by 
principle. 

It  is  common  for  nearly  all  classes  to  seek  virtue 
for  what  it  gives^  rather  than  for  what  it  is.  They 
seek  reputation  rather  than  character,  — a fatal  error. 
“ When  we  labor  to  gain  reputation,  we  are  not  even 
taking  the  first  step  toward  the  acquisition  of  char- 
acter, but  only  putting  on  coverings  over  that  which 
is,  and  protecting  it  against  improvement.  As  well 
may  we  strive  to  be  virtuous  by  thinldng  of  the 
reward  of  heaven,  as  to  build  up  our  characters 
by  thinking  of  the  opinions  of  men.  The  cases  are 
precisely  parallel.  In  each  we  are  thinking  of  the 
pay  as  something  apart  from  the  work,  while  in  fact 
the  only  pay  we  can  have  inheres  in  the  doing  of  the 
work.  Virtue  is  its  own  reward,  because  its  per- 
formance creates  the  kingdom  of  heaven  within  us, 

28-*- 


330 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


and  we  cannot  attain  to  virtue  until  we  strive  after 
it  for  its  own  sake.” 

The  young  man  who  is  controlled  by  moral  prin- 
ciple turns  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  left  to  con- 
sult personal  ease  or  aggrandizement. 

Last,  though  not  least,  experimental  religion  is  an 
element  in  the  beau  ideal  of  a young  man.  It  is  not 
enough  that  he  has  moral  prineiple.  This  may  ren- 
der him  lovely  in  a high  degree  ; but  his  character  is 
defective  without  religion.  This  is  the  only  sure 
protector  and  guide,  — the  only  perfeet  regulator 
of  the  life.  Like  the  young  man  whom  Jesus  loved, 
he  lacks  “ one  thing,”  without  this.  This  is  the  key- 
stone of  character.  “ The  virtues,”  says  a wnriter,  “ all 
lock  into  each  other.  They  cannot  stand  alone.  Like 
the  stones  of  an  arch,  no  one  of  them  can  be  want- 
ing without  making  aU  the  rest  insecure.  That  char- 
acter alone  is  trustworthy,  in  which  each  virtue  takes 
its  relative  position,  and  aU  are  held  in  place  and 
confirmed  by  the  keystone  of  abiding  faith  in  the 
great  central  fact,  that  there  is  a God  of  infinite 
goodness  and  truth,  whose  commandments  are  the 
laws  of  life  m this  world,  and  the  world  to  eome.” 

Thomas  Jefferson  established  a college  at  Char- 
lottesville, Va.,  upon  infidel  prineiples.  He  believed 
that  youth  and  young  men  should  be  left  to  then- 
sense  of  honor  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  human 
conduct.  Of  course,  the  college  afforded  young 
men  an  ample  opportunity  for  living  without  relig- 
ion. It  was  a rare  time  and  place  for  the  experi- 
ment. The  result  was,  that  when  the  young  men 
were  left  to  their  own  honor,  honor  left  them.  Dis- 
order, dissipation,  and  extreme  immorality  converted 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  MAN. 


331 


the  college  into  a type  of  hell.  The  best  students 
and  professors  left,  and  those  who  remained  waxed 
worse  and  worse.  The  baneful  influence  extended 
to  the  town,  and  the  whole  population  became  fear- 
fully demoralized.  In  1834,  the  government  was 
changed ; a rigid  discipline  was  adopted ; and  the 
professors  subscribed  to  support  ministers,  who 
should  in  turn  conduct  public  worship  in  the  Uni- 
versity. Subsequently  a house  of  worship  was 
erected  for  the  benefit  of  the  college.  Order  was 
restored  by  the  inauguration  of  the  ordinances  of 
religion ; respectable  youth  flocked  to  it ; and  men 
of  high  attainments  sought  its  professorships. 

One  such  example  is  sufficient  for  an  age  and  na- 
tion. It  shows  that  religion  is  the  crowning  glory  of 
human  character,  and  is  indispensable  to  every 
young  man  as  a protector  and  guide. 

We  have  thus  presented  the  Beau  Ideal  of  a 
Young  Man.  One  of  this  character  will  gather 
friends  and  admirers  around  him  wherever  he  so- 
journs. He  will  be  useful  in  the  sphere  which  Provi- 
dence allots.  His  life  will  be  luminous  and  fruitful. 
His  latest  days  will  be  crowned  with  blessings  from 
the  great  Giver.  He  will  leave  his  mark  upon  the 
world,  and  ascend  at  last  to  a glorious  reward. 


XIV. 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUXG  WOMAN. 


“ Witli  inborn  and  nnboastful  majesty", 

Alike  from  careless  levity  remote 
And  a behavior  schooled  by  selfish  rules, 

Alike  removed  from  rashness,  and 
With  firm  and  fearless  step  she  ever  walked 
The  naiTow  path  of  duW,  — all  unconscious 
That  she  won  worship,  where  she  never  dreamed 
Of  approbation.” 

Schiller. 


The  Psalmist  has  given  the  most  satisfactory- 
idea  of  a well-developed  female  character  in  the 
following  words : “ that  our  daughters  may  be  as 
corner-stones,  polished  after  the  similitude  of  a palace'^ 
Here  grace,  beauty,  and  stability  are  imphed  in  the 
reference  to  polished  stones.  These  are  the  elements 
of  such  character  as  commands  divine  approbation. 
It  is  certain,  that  if  daughters  are  educated  so  as  to 
render  the  similitude  of  the  Psalmist  appropriate, 
there  will  not  only  be  adornment,  but  also  strength 
of  character.  A corner-stone  is  solid  and  enduring. 
It  occupies  a place  of  great  importance  in  supporting 
the  structure.  If  this  figure  expresses  the  exact  truth 
in  regard  to  females,  then  such  of  their  number  as 
answer  to  the  Psalmist’s  descripiion  are  pillars  in  the 

(■T32) 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


333 


social  fabric.  They  contribute  largely  to  the  wel- 
fare and  perpetuity  of  our  various  institutions. 

The  difficulty  lies  in  combining  elements  so  as  to 
result  in  this  harmony  and  symmetry  of  character. 
The  character  of  a woman  must  not  only  be  as  a 
“ corner-stone,”  but  it  must  be  polished.  Like  a 
block  of  marble  wrought  from  Italian  quarries,  it 
should  possess  a grace  and  finish  sufficient  to  mark 
the  sex.  In  this  respect,  woman  should  be  dis- 
tinguished from  man.  That  style  of  education 
which  ignores  refinement,  and  seeks  to  mould  a char- 
acter, of  which  rough-hewn  granite  is  the  only  ap- 
propriate symbol,  is  about  as  defective  as  that  which 
deals  in  polish  altogether.  It  is  masculine,  and  not 
feminine.  The  tendency  of  the  age,  however,  is  not 
in  this  dnection.  Much  to  the  moral  detriment  of 
daughters,  the  prevalent  style  of  education  is  super- 
ficial, and  tends  to  a “ vain  show.”  There  is  no  lack 
of  polish ; but  it  is  not  applied  to  stones,  — it  is  put 
upon  an  image  of  vanity. 

The  foregoing  remarks  show  that  the  subject  be- 
fore us  is  one  of  great  importance.  It  evidently  has 
been,  and  is  stfil,  undervalued.  Much  is  said  and 
written  to  young  men  about  the  formation  of  char- 
acter. Books,  addressed  to  this  class  of  persons,  fre- 
quently issue  from  an  overbm'dened  press.  Pro- 
visions are  made  to  educate  them  for  the  various 
pursuits  of  life,  and,  in  a great  measure,  this  is  done 
at  the  expense  of  the  public.  This  is  weU,  — too 
much  cannot  be  done  in  this  regard.  But,  at  the 
same  time,  how  little  has  been  done  for  the  other 
sex ! How  little  has  been  written  and  published  for 
them!  While  it  is  very  generally  conceded  that 


334 


LITE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


their  influence  is  not  a whit  inferior  to  that  of  males, 
the  question,  “ How  shall  that  influence  be  made  the 
greatest  blessing  to  the  world?  ” has  commanded  little 
attention.  This  consideration  of  woman’s  influence 
alone,  ought  to  have  awakened,  ere  this,  universal 
and  profound  interest  in  the  highest  development  of 
her  character.  The  celebrated  Adolph  JMonod  says, 
“ The  greatest  influence  on  earth,  whether  for  good 
or  for  evil,  is  possessed  by  woman.  Let  us  study 
the  history  of  bygone  ages  — the  state  of  barbarism 
and  civilization;  of  the  East  and  the  West;  of  Pa- 
ganism and  Christianity ; of  antiquity  and  the  middle 
ages ; of  the  mediaeval  and  modern  times,  — and  we 
shall  find,  that  there  is  nothing  which  more  decidedly 
separates  them  than  the  condition  of  woman.” 
Rev.  John  Angell  James  A\altes  as  follows : “ Every 
woman,  whether  rich  or  poor,  married  or  single,  has 
a circle  of  influence,  within  which,  according  to  her 
character,  she  is  exerting  a certain  amount  of  power 
for  good  or  harm.  Every  woman,  by  her  virtue  or 
her  vice,  by  her  folly  or  her  wisdom,  by  her  levity  or 
her  dignity,  is  adding  something  to  our  national 

elevation  or  degradation To  a certain  extent, 

woman  is  the  conservator  of  a nation’s  welfare. 
Her  virtue,  if  firm  and  uncorrupted,  wfil  stand  sen- 
tinel over  that  of  empire A community  is 

not  likely  to  be  overthrown,  where  woman  fulfils  her 
mission ; or,  by  the  power  of  her  noble  heart  over  the 
hearts  of  others,  she  will  raise  it  from  its  ruins,  and 
restore  it  again  to  prosperity  and  joy.” 

Even  though  female  influence  be  confined  to 
home,  it  cannot  be  considered  narrow.  Perhaps  for 
that  reason  it  is  more  powerful  and  wide  spread. 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


335 


It  has  been  said,  that  “ the  corner-stone  of  our  republic 
is  the  hearth-stone.”  Few  are  disposed  to  deny  the 
truth  of  this  declaration.  But  it  is  only  another  way 
of  asserting,  that  woman’s  influence  is  paramount  to 
any  other.  For  what  is  home  without  her  counsels, 
aft’ection,  unwearied  toils,  and  care?  She  is  the 
centre,  around  which  every  thing  there  revolves.  She 
can  make  home  blessed  or  otherwise.  She  can  open 
fountains  of  joy  or  sorrow,  virtue  or  vice,  therein. 
She  can  send  out  therefrom  streams  of  life  or  death. 
She  can  make  Washingtons  or  Neros,  Edwardses  or 
Voltaues,  Harriet  Newells  or  TuUias.  ‘The  mother 
of  Rev.  John  Newton  was  the  instrument  of  his  con- 
version. He  was  the  means  of  the  conversion  of 
Claudius  Buchanan,  who  became  a missionary  in 
the  East  Indies.  Buchanan,  through  a little  volume 
he  published,  called  the  attention  of  Judson  to  the 
missionary  work.  Newton  was  also  the  means  of 
bringing  Thomas  Scott,  the  commentator,  to  Christ. 
To  him  also,  in  connection  with  Doddridge,  is 
traced  the  conversion  of  Wilberforce,  and  Wilber- 
force,  in  his  turn,  led  Leigh  Richmond  to  the  cross. 
Who,  then,  can  estimate  the  influence  of  that  single 
woman,  — the  mother  of  Newton  ? Gather  up,  if 
possible,  the  influence  of  her  son,  with  that  of  Bu- 
chanan, Judson,  Scott,  Wilberforce,  and  Richmond, 
and  it  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  that  of  this  one 
female.  She  started  a wave  of  moral  power  which 
has  not  yet  ceased  to  roU.  This  is  only  a single 
item  of  female  influence  at  home. 

“ That  man,”  said  a keen  observer  of  human  na- 
ture, pointing  to  a stranger  in  the  crowd,  “ has  been 
brought  up  in  the  society  of  intelligent  and  virtuous 


336 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


sisters.”  “ Whence  do  you  infer  that  ? ” said  the 
person  addressed.  He  replied,  “ because  he  exhibits 
that  gentleness  and  delicacy  of  feeling  which  result 
from  The  influence  of  intelligent  and  virtuous  sisters.” 

The  gifted  Irving  says : “ Often  have  I lamented 
that  Providence  denied  me  the  companionship  of 
sisters.  Often  have  I thought,  had  I been  thus 
favored  I should  have  been  a better  man.” 

The  pious  Pascal  ascribed  the  thirst  he  had  for 
holiness  to  the  example  and  words  of  a devoted 
Christian  sister.  At  one  time  he  was  in  danger  of 
falling  into  extreme  worldliness,  and  probably  this 
would  have  been  the  result,  had  not  that  godly  sister 
awakened  new  desires  and  aspirations  in  his  heart 
for  likeness  to  Christ. 

The  distinguished  missionary,  Henry  Martyn,  was 
brought  to  Christ  by  a sister ; and  her  influence, 
after  his  conversion,  did  much  towards  making  his 
life  what  it  was. 

Such  examples  are  cited  as  illustrations  of  female 
influence  in  the  home  circle.  Admitting  that  it  is 
bounded  by  that  sphere,  even  then,  its  extent  cannot 
be  measured. 

A writer  says ; “ Our  young  men  give  character  to 
the  city,  but  who  gives  character  to  them  ? What 
plastic  hand  is  moulding  them  for  good  or  evil? 
At  what  shrine  is  their  allegiance  first  offered,  and 
whose  is  that  persuasive  voice  which  it  is,  humanly 
speaking,  impossible  for  them  to  resist  ? Very  often, 
before  religion  has  placed  its  restraining  hand  upon 
them,  before  they  have  adopted  any  fixed  principle 
of  life,  the  direction  to  their  whole  lives  is  given  by 
an  influence  which  they  have  felt,  although  it  was 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE*  A YOUNG  WOMAN.  337 

scarcely  discerned.  They  may  trace  their  salvation 
or  their  ruin,  for  this  life  and  the  life  to  come,  per- 
haps, to  the  smile  of  encouragement,  or  the  gentle 
expression  of  reproof,  with  which  their  first  step  in 
folly  was  encountered.  I would  not  willingly  ex- 
cite a smile  upon  a subject  so  serious,  nor  turn  the 
solemnity  of  these  great  interests  into  the  channel  of 
merriment ; but  it  has  been  so  truly  said,  that  it  may 
be  seriously  repeated,  — there  is  little  hope  of  re- 
forming young  men,  and  keeping  them  in  the  path 
of  virtue,  unless  we  begin  by  reforming  young 
women,  and  teaching  them  to  give  their  best  in- 
fluence to  the  cause  of  goodness  and  sobriety. 
“ You  may  rely  upon  it,”  said  a young  man  to  me  not 
long  since,  and  he  was  one  who  had  felt  the  influence 
of  which  he  spoke,  “ you  may  rely  upon  it,  that,  if 
they  mix  the  drink  for  us,  we  will  not  refuse  to  take 
it.  If  their  lips  first  touch  the  glass,  we  are  sure  to 
drain  it.  If  they  evidently  think  us  better  company 
when  our  tongues  are  loosened  by  wine,  and  join  in 
the  laugh  when  we  tell  them  of  our  foUies,  ministers 
may  as  well  stop  their  preaching,  unless  they  can  go 
a step  further  back,  and  begin  at  the  right  place.” 
It  is  quaintly  said,  and  has  the  air,  at  first,  of  being 
half  ludicrous,  half  satirical ; but  I fear  that  it  is 
more  than  half  true.  The  influence  of  the  young 
lady,  and  her  consequent  responsibility,  is  very  great. 
That  influence  is  often  thrown  on  the  side  of  immo- 
rality and  irreligion,  simply  because  she  does  not 
think  of  it  at  all. 

I have  been  impressed,  in  another  regard,  with  the 
thoughtlessness  of  young  women  to  which  the  above 
writer  refers,  and  wiU  allude  to  it  though  it  be  a 
29 


338 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


slight  digression  from  the  subject.  ]\Iany  of  this 
class  welcome  the  presence,  and  even  receive  the 
attentions  of  young  men,  who  are  known  to  be  ad- 
dicted to  vicious  habits.  Frequently  young  ladies 
consent  to  be  the  wives  of  men  who  are  so  dissi- 
pated as  almost  to  render  it  certain  that  their  hus- 
bands will  be  confirmed  sots  within  a few  years. 
They  must  think  lightly  of  a good  character.  They 
certainly  do  not  possess  that  high-mindedness  which 
is  peculiarly  the  adornment  of  female  character. 
Perhaps  they  imagine  that  they  shall  be  able  to  re- 
claim their  lovers  after  the  nuptial  bands  are  tied. 
This  is  a “ strong  delusion.”  If  a young  man  will 
not  forsake  his  cups  to  win  a female’s  heart,  he  will 
not  forsake  them  to  keep  it.  It  is  believed  that  no 
class  of  persons  can  exert  a more  decided  influence 
for  temperance  than  young  women.  Let  them 
frown  upon  those  worthless  characters  that  are 
formed  amid  the  associations  of  the  bar-room  and 
gaming  saloon,  and  they  will  be  the  means  of  putting 
away  the  cup  from  the  lips  of  many.  With  a firm 
regard  for  purity  and  excellence,  let  them  turn  away 
with  disdain  from  the  offers  of  those  who  “ tarry  long 
at  the  wine,”  and  sacrifice  manhood  to  a voracious 
appetite.  Then  we  look,  and  shall  not  look  in  vain, 
for  reformation  among  this  class. 

The  writer,  whose  words  we  have  just  quoted, 
adds  the  following.  “ Every  woman,  whose  man- 
ners are  at  all  attractive,  is  exerting  such  influence 
wherever  she  goes,  to  a degree  which  it  is  impossible 
to  estimate.  Lr  every  cncle  she  fixes  a standard  of 
morality,  above  which  few  men  care  to  rise.  Wo- 
men’s perception  of  virtue  is  generally  understood  to 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


339 


be  more  nice  than  that  of  men ; and  what  satisfies 
her  is  sure  to  meet  with  their  approval,  and,  generally 
speaking,  they  will  not  come  quite  up  to  the  mark. 
If  she  speaks  lightly  of  religion,  they  will  blaspheme 
it.  If  she  is  devoted  to  pleasure,  they  will  enter 
into  dissipation,  K she  is  heartless,  they  will  be 
unprincipled.  If  she  treats  temperance  as  a joke, 
they  wiU  regard  intoxication  as  a pardonable  fault. 
What  I now  say  may  be  mortifying  to  the  pride  of 
men,  but  it  is  true.  We  seldom  rise  quite  up  to  the 
standard  of  morality  and  religion  which  woman 
holds  before  us.  We  never  rise  above  it.  In  this 
respect  she  is  the  lawgiver,  and  we  are  the  subjects. 
The  only  hope  for  the  moral  advancement  of  society 
is  to  keep  woman  in  the  advanced  guard.  Let  her 
point  the  way  and  lead  it,  and  the  right  progi-ess  is 
secured.” 

In  view  of  such  truths  I repeat  the  remark,  that 
the  single  fact  of  woman’s  influence  ought  to  mag- 
nify the  importance  of  developing  her  character  in 
the  highest  degree.  With  many  young  ladies  there 
is  a lack  of  purpose  in  this  respect.  The  life  is  aim- 
less, so  far  as  relates  to  that  kind  of  discipline  and 
purpose  to  which  reference  is  made.  Hence  it  is 
important  to  place  before  the  mind’s  eye  a model 
female  character,  so  that  we  may  say  of  those  formed 
after  it,  “ corner-stones  polished  after  the  similitude 
of  a palace.” 

The  first  quality  in  the  beau  ideal  of  a young 
woman  is  the  conviction  that  all  attempts  at  im- 
provement should  be  preparation  for  the  duties  of 
life.  Much  of  female  education,  at  the  present  day, 
has  regard  to  nothing  more  than  effect.  In  a multi- 


340 


LIPB  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


tude  of  families,  daughters  are  disciplined  solely  with 
reference  to  the  impressions  they  will  make  upon  be- 
holders. Their  hterary  advantages,  their  habits  and 
manners,  their  dress  and  companionships,  are  pro- 
vided with  respect  to  this  single,  vain  consideration. 
The  duties  of  life,  — the  object  which  ought  espe- 
cially to  engage  the  feelings  and  give  direction  to 
every  effort,  — are  lost  sight  of,  or,  at  least  receive 
but  a small  share  of  attention.  INIany  of  this  class 
are  enamored  with  wealth,  fashion,  and  all  the  par- 
aphernalia of  so-caUed  “ high  life.”  Their  idea  of  a 
fortune  is  nothing  less  than  the  means  of  furnishing 
pleasure  in  its  various  forms  to  its  possessors.  To 
dwell  in  palaces,  to  own  imposing  equipages,  to 
make  the  proudest  display  in  the  circles  of  fashion, 
tills  is  the  chmax  of  their  ambition.  A life  of  use- 
fulness, or  a home  ui  golden  mansions  at  God’s  right 
hand,  or  wahdng  in  “ white  ” with  angels  and  glori- 
fied spirits  amidst  jasper  and  sapphire,  has  no  attrac- 
tions for  them.  It  is  truly  painful  to  see  immortal 
beings,  with  all  the  means  in  their  hands  of  blessing 
their  fellow  men,  yielding  themselves  up  to  the  most 
extravagant  worldhness,  and  living  as  regardless  of 
God  as  if  he  were  only  a figment  of  the  imagination. 
But  it  is  even  so.  Some  waiters,  also,  join  them  in 
paying  their  devotions  to  the  “ god  of  this  world.” 
Their  pens  are  employed  to  magnify  effect  above  the 
claims  of  duty.  A French  female  writer  says  : ‘‘  We 
are  born  to  adorn  the  world  rather  than  command  it.” 
This  is  false,  if  the  wariter  speaks  of  adornment  in  the 
sense  in  which  it  is  regarded  by  the  class  to  whom 
we  have  pomted.-  For  they  disconnect  it  entirely 
from  that  winch  is  useful  and  true.  They  consider 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


341 


that  it  consists  of  a round  of  elegant  trifles.  For 
this,  woman  was  not  born.  She  was  made  for  a 
higher  and  nobler  destiny.  Her  mission  on  earth  is 
not  to  lead  the  life  of  the  butterfly,  to  live  and  die  as 
the  insects,  that  expire  in  the  beams  of  the  setting 
sun : it  is  to  do  the  will  of  God.  True,  she  wfll 
adorn  society  whenever  and  wherever  she  fulfils  her 
appointed  mission.  But  it  will  not  be  the  adorn- 
ment of  mere  tinsel  and  splendid  show ; it  will  be 
the  more  natural,  and  hence  more  pleasing  embel- 
lishment that  results  from  intelligence  and  virtue. 
God  has  scattered  a profusion  of  ornaments  over  his 
works  ; but  there  is  a meaning  and  use  connected 
with  each  one.  Even  the  golden  lustre  upon  the 
insect’s  wing,  and  the  blush  of  the  summer  rose,  lift 
the  thoughts  of  the  beholder  to  Him  who  arrayed 
them  in  robes  more  beautiful  than  Solomon’s  in 
his  glory.  There  is  a moral  in  every  shrub  and 
flower ; and  there  ought  to  be  in  every  human  act. 
Outward  adorning  should  harmonize  with  that  meek 
and  quiet  spirit  within  which  is  of  “ great  price.” 
It  should  be  consistent  with  that  mode^  and  artless 
simplicity  which  are  real  ornaments  of  female  char- 
acter. This  is  not,  of  course,  discarding  adorn- 
ment, but  regulating  it  according  to  reason  and 
revelation. 

I asked  a little  boy,  “ who  made  the  flowers  ? ” and 
he  replied,  “ God.”  “ For  what  did  he  make  them  ? ” 
I inquired.  He  answered,  “ to  look  at  and  smell  of.” 
That  class  of  worldhngs  who  lose  sight  of  life’s 
duties,  and  chase  “ airy  nothings,”  are  lilte  that  little 
child,  four  years  of  age.  Their  views  of  life  and  of 
God  are  not  higher  or  nobler.  They  seem  to  say, 
29 


342 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


by  their  acts,  that  God  made  a great  part  of  the 
world  only  to  “ look  and  to  be  sources  of 

mere  sensual  delight.  They  are  yet  in  their  child- 
hood in  respect  to  their  conceptions  of  di\Tne  things. 
It  is  a severe  charge  to  bring  against  them  ; but  it  is 
true. 

One  of  your  own  sex,  a writer  of  great  ability, 
Margaret  FuUer  Ossoli,  says  : “ A little  while  since 
I was  at  one  of  the  most  fashionable  places  of  pub- 
lic resort.  I saw  there  many  women,  dressed  with- 
out regard  to  the  season  or  the  demands  of  the  place, 
in  apery,  or,  as  it  looked,  in  mockery,  of  European 
fashions.  I saw  their  eyes  restlessly  courting  atten- 
tion. I saw  the  way  in  which  it  was  paid  ; the  style 
of  devotion,  almost  an  open  sneer,  which  it  pleased 
those  ladies  to  receive  from  men  whose  expression 
marked  their  own  low  position  in  the  moral  and  infel- 
lectual  world.  Those  women  went  to  their  piUows 
with  their  heads  full  of  folly,  their  hearts  of  jeal- 
ousy, or  gratified  vanity ; those  men,  with  the  low 
opinion  they  already  entertained  of  woman  con- 
firmed. Theke  were  American  ladies  ; that  is,  they 
were  of  that  class  who  have  wealth  and  leisure  to 
make  full  use  of  the  day,  and  confer  benefits  on 
others.  They  were  of  that  class  whom  the  posses- 
sion of  external  advantages  makes  of  pernicious  ex- 
ample to  many,  if  these  advantages  be  misused.” 

The  above  reminds  one  of  the  Lines  penned  by  the 
princess  Amelia,  daughter  of  George  III.,  a short 
time  before  her  death  : — 


“ Uiitliinking,  idle,  vild,  and  young, 

I laughed  and  danced,  and  talked  and  sung ; 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


343 


And  proud  of  healtli,  of  freedom  vain, 

Dreamed  not  of  sorrow,  care,  or  pain  ; 

Concluding  in  these  hours  of  glee. 

That  all  this  world  was  made  for  me. 

But  when  the  hour  of  trial  came. 

When  sickness  shook  this  trembling  frame. 

When  folly’s  gay  pursuits  were  o’er. 

And  I could  dance  and  sing  no  more. 

It  then  occurred  how  sad ’t  would  be. 

Were  this  world  only  made  for  me.” 

It  will  be  seen  that  we  do  not  discard  ornament 
altogether.  We  believe  that  a fundamental  element 
of  a noble  female  character  is,  the  conviction  that  the 
duties  of  life  should  command  the  soul’s  energies. 
Let  this  be  the  foundation,  and  then  the  needful  ele- 
gancies of  life  will  find  their  appropriate  place.  They 
wiU  be  incorporated  into  the  high,  noble  purpose  of 
life,  and  contribute  to  the  worth  of  character.  In 
this  way  they  used  to  promote  the  well-being  of  man 
and  the  glory  of  God,  — the  highest  object  which 
can  animate  immortal  beings. 

In  this  connection,  it  may  be  well  to  speak  more 
particularly  of  intellectual  culture.  This  subject  has 
been  incidentally  referred  to  in  the  foregoing,  but  it 
is  worthy  of  additional  remarks.  Intelligence  is  not 
only  a substantial  quality  of  female  character,  but  it 
is  one  of  the  richest  embellishments.  A cultivated 
mind  never  fails  to  attract  by  its  beautiful  develop- 
ment. None  but  the  most  ignorant  and  benighted 
persons  can  be  insensible  to  its  charms.  Intelli- 
gence without  beauty  in  a female  is  still  winning  ; but 
beauty  without  inteUigence  possesses  little  attraction 
to  sensible  people.  Those  elegancies  which  spring 
from  intellectual  culture  differ  widely  from  those 


344 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


which  are  the  result  of  strict  regard  for  the  rules  of 
fashionable  life.  The  former  are  natural  and  easy ; 
the  latter  are  affected  and  stiff.  At  this  point,  multi- 
tudes make  a sad  failure.  Supposing  that  nice  be- 
havior, or  true  politeness,  consists  in  certain  arti- 
ficial tilings,  that  the  motions  of  the  body  have  more 
to  do  with  it  than  the  culture  of  the  mind,  they  sub- 
ject the  former  to  various  modes  of  torture,  and  leave 
the  latter,  a gem  unpolished,  to  perish  amidst  the 
rubbish  of  ignorance.  A writer  has  defined  true  po- 
liteness, “ benevolence  in  trifles.”  It  is  one  of  the 
best  definitions  of  this  grace,  which  appears  so  often 
only  in  revolting  caricatm'e.  It  separates  true  polite- 
ness from  that  silly  ceremony  of  worldlings  upon 
which  inteUigent  peojile  can  look  only  with  contempt. 
That  person  whose  mind  and  heart  are  highly  cul- 
tivated will  not  fail  to  be  truly  polite. 

Perhaps  a large  class  of  young  ladies  cherish  erro- 
neous views  respecting  what  is  most  necessary  in 
the  culture  of  the  mind.  The  error  pertains  espe- 
cially to  reading.  Light  reading,  except  occasionally 
for  recreation,  enervates  rather  than  strengthens  the 
mind.  It  is  a fact,  which  females  ought  to  ponder 
with  seriousness.  For,  whether  it  be  true  or  not, 
they  have  the  reputation  of  devouring  literary  trash. 
Exciting  novels  and  tales  are  said  to  be  favorites 
with  them.  This  reputation  seems  to  have  been 
earned,  and  therefore  just,  since  editors  fill  the 
pages  of  “ ladies'  books  ” with  love-stories,  and  gen- 
eral milk-and-water  reading.  If  females  demanded 
something  more  substantial,  editors  would  not  with- 
hold it.  The  popular  taste  determines  the  character 
of  our  literature. 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


345 


Alison  says  of  the  Austrian  princess,  Marie  An- 
toinette, whose  career  proved  fatal  to  Louis  and  the 
French  monarchy : “ She  had  little  education ; read 
hardly  any  thing  but  novels  and  romances  ; and  had 
a fixed  aversion,  during  her  prosperous  days,  to  every 
species  of  business,  or  serious  employment.”  Lilte 
her,  every  woman,  whose  reading  is  light  and  flashy, 
will  have  “ little  education.” 

A young  lady,  in  one  of  our  large  cities,  a few 
years  since,  made  the  following  confession.  She 
was  lamenting,  after  her  conversion  to  Christ,  that 
her  mind  was  so  poorly  fm'nished  for  usefulness, 
when  it  might  have  been  highly  cultivated,  if  her 
reading  had  been  of  a substantial  nature ; and  she 
said : “ Were  it  in  my  power,  I would  make  any 
earthly  sacrifice,  could  I thirst  for  the  Bible  as  I 
have  after  novels  ; and  the  greatest  daily  cross  I am 
called  to  take  up  is  to  pass  by  a novel  without  read- 
ing it.  I would  say  it  as  a warning  to  all  my  sex, 
beware  of  this  fatal  rock  ; beware  of  wasting,  not 
oifly  days,  but  nights,  to  make  yourselves  fools  aU 
the  rest  of  your  days,  if  not  absolutely  wretched.” 

You  will  understand  from  the  foregoing  what 
kind  of  intellectual  discipline  is  needed  by  females. 
While  literary  accomphshments  should  always  be 
regarded  as  less  than  moral  excellence,  the  union  of 
the  two  should  be  esteemed  as  the  highest  attain- 
ment. By  this  you  will  understand  that  what  are 
considered  the  less  useful  acquisitions  of  young  fe- 
males, such  as  embroidery,  painting,  music,  and 
modern  languages,  are  not  proscribed.  These  things 
may  be  pursued  to  the  neglect  of  religion  and  the 
higher  branches  of  education,  as  well  as  the  duties 


346 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


to  the  poor  and  suffering ; and  this,  of  course,  is  sin- 
ful. If  the  best  pursuit  be  followed  to  the  neglect 
of  duties  in  the  other  relations  of  life,  it  is  wrong. 
The  Christian  may  become  so  zealous  for  the  cause 
of  Christ  in  the  community  where  he  resides  as  to 
neglect  his  duties  at  home,  and  then  he  is  gudty  in 
the  sight  of  God.  In  like  mamier,  the  more  strictly 
ornamental  parts  of  female  education  may  be  at- 
tended to,  (and  they  too  often  are,)  so  as  to  merit 
condemnation.  But  within  proper  limits,  and  guided 
by  the  right  motives  therein,  the  young  woman  may 
cultivate  these  graces  without  fear  of  incuiTing  cen- 
sure. There  is  such  a thing  as  adorning  the  “ gar- 
ments of  salvation”  with  the  jewels  of  taste  and 
literatm’e.  Only  “ make  accomphshments  subordi- 
nate to  more  substantial  excellencies.  Let  the 
former  be  to  the  latter  only  as  the  burnish  of  the 
gold,  or  the  sparlde  of  the  diamond.” 

Modesty  is  an  important  quality  in  a model  female 
character.  The  want  of  it  exposes  woman  to  re- 
proach and  shame.  Nearly  all  nations  have  recog- 
nized tliis  truth  in  their  manners  and  customs.  It  is 
a grace  that  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  her  nature  and 
sphere.  Her  sphere  is  Home,  where  there  is  less 
need  of  boldness.  Excessive  modesty  in  man  is 
called  effeminate.  A degree  of  it  is  an  ornament  to 
him ; but  his  sphere  of  action  demands  that  its  exer- 
cise be  resti'icted.  But,  I had  almost  said,  that  \vo- 
man  cannot  cultivate- it  to  excess.  It  is  so  befittins’ 
her  nature  and  place,  that,  how^ever  much  of  it  there 
may  be,  it  does  not  mar  her.  We  admire  the  Golet, 
that  appears  to  slirink  from  our  view-  in  the  waving 
grass,  more  for  that  apparent  modesty  of  which  it  is 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


347 


the  appropriate  symbol,  than  for  its  form  or  colors. 
This  characteristic  of  the  coy,  humble  flower  im- 
parts a beauty  to  every  petal  and  hue.  So  the  same 
grace  renders  every  quality  of  maidenhood  more 
lovely.  It  heightens  the  effect  of  intelligence  and 
virtue.  It  contributes  something  to  the  appearance 
of  morality  and  religion.  Indeed,  religion  gives  it 
existence  often  in  hearts  where  it  never  abode. 

“ Modesty’s  tlie  charm, 

That  coldest  hearts  can  quickest  warm ; 

Which  all  our  best  affections  gains, 

And,  gaining,  ever  still  retains.” 

How  striking  and  attractive  is  this  quality  in  some 
of  the  women  of  the  Bible ! How  charming  in 
Ruth,  Esther,  Hannah  the  mother  of  John,  Eunice 
the  mother  of  Timothy,  and  Mary  the  mother  of 
Jesus ! How  attractive  it  was  in  the  characters  of 
Josephine,  and  the  mothers  of  Wesley  and  Washing- 
ton ! They  seem  to  have  possessed  the  most  deli- 
cate sense  of  propriety  on  all  occasions,  so  that  they 
never  stepped  beyond  their  own  heaven-appointed 
sphere.  Contrast  with  them  such  a woman  as  the 
famous  Joan  of  Arc,  in  whom  modesty  never  ap- 
peared. We  wonder  to  see  her  mounted  on  a fiery 
steed,  leading  the  armies  of  France  to  victory.  We 
can  scarcely  doubt  her  patriotism,  and  certainly  must 
acknowledge  the  perseverance  and  fearlessness  of 
this  heroine,  who  ascended,  from  a peasant’s  hut  to  a 
royal  palace.  But  while  we  are  amazed  at  such 
conquests  by  a woman,  and  are  free  to  admit  that 
she  possessed  some  excellencies,  we  cannot  admire 
her  character.  It  was  the  character  of  a man,  devoid 


348 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


of  that  loveliness,  without  which  woman  is  a dis- 
honor to  her  sex.  Masculine  can  never  take  the 
place  of  feminine  qualities  and  be  admired. 

But  we  need  not  refer  to  other  days  and  nations 
for  illustrations.  Here  in  our  own  New  England, 
where  woman  has  enjoyed  the  best  facilities  for  im- 
provement, examples  are  not  wanting.  Look  at  that 
class  of  feminine  declaimers,  of  whom  a Foster  and 
a Stone  are  fair  representatives,  and  say,  is  there  a 
single  womanly  attraction  about  them  ? Grant  that 
some  of  them  possess  intelligence  and  virtue,  these 
gi-aces  appear  in  them  as  “jewels  in  a swine’s  snout.” 
They  discard  entirely  the  sweet  charm  of  modesty, 
which  is  always  suggestive  of  innocence  and  purity ; 
and  whatever  excellent  qualities  they  may  possess 
suffer  in  consequence.  For  one,  I cannot  respect  the 
virtue  of  a female  who  contends  on  the  public  ros- 
trum for  “ Women’s  Rights,”  claiming  equality  of 
the  two  sexes  in  respect  to  the  immunities  and  call- 
ings of  life.  It  is  such  a breach  of  modesty,  that  I 
cannot  suppress  the  suspicions  of  moral  obliquity 
that  rise  in  my  heart.  I tliink  of  historic  records, 
which  prove  unmistakably  that  Grecian  and  Roman 
females  who  sought  publicity,  and  figured  in  courts, 
were  generally  guilty  of  vices  that  make  %Trtue  blush 
to  name.  I remember  that  the  representatives  of 
pure,  high-minded  Roman  ladies  were  Lucretia,  and 
the  wife  of  the  first  Tarquinius,  — princesses  who 
were  distinguished  for  their  domestic  %-irtues,  ever 
faithful  and  happy  in  the  midst  of  their  families. 
Knowing  these  facts  of  history,  and  perceiving  that 
“ keepers  at  home  ” are  certainly  exposed  to  fewer 
temptations  than  those  who  claim  the  rights  of  men 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


349 


in  promiscuous  assemblies,  I do  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  I am  doubtful  of  their  purity. 

Solomon,  undoubtedly,  designs  to  hold  up  the  idea 
that  domestic  life  protects  purity,  in  his  description 
of  a virtuous  woman.  “ Who  can  find  a virtuous 
woman  ? for  her  price  is  far  above  rubies.  The 
heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in  her,  so  that 
he  shall  have  no  need  of  spoH.  She  wiU  do  him 
good  and  not  evU.  all  the  days  of  her  life.  She  seek- 
eth  wool  and  flax,  and  worketh  willingly  with  her 
hands.  She  layeth  her  hands  to  the  spindle,  and  her 
hands  hold  the  distaff.  She  stretcheth  out  her  hands 
to  the  poor ; yea,  she  reacheth  forth  her  hands  to  the 
needy.  Strength  and  honor  are  her  clothing;  and 
she  shall  rejoice  in  time  to  come.  She  openeth  her 
mouth  with  wisdom ; and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law 
of  kindness.  She  looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her 
household,  and  eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness.  Her 
children  arise  up,  and  call  her  blessed ; her  husband 
also,  and  he  praiseth  her.”  Thus  Solomon  finds  his 
example  of  a virtuous  woman  at  home.  He  does 
not  look  for  her  in  places  of  public  resort ; for  she  is 
not  likely  to  be  found  where  modesty  is  sacrificed. 

Amiability  or  loveliness  is  another  quality  of  fe- 
male excellence.  These  terms  express  about  the 
same  thing,  although  the  latter  relates  more  to  physi- 
cal than  spiritual  developments.  A female  may  be 
polished  in  manners,  graceful  in  aU  her  movements, 
intelligent  and  accomplished ; but  unless  she  possesses 
an  amiable  spirit,  she  leaves  an  unfavorable  impres- 
sion upon  the  minds  of  beholders.  A sour,  morose 
disposition^  unless  continually  guarded  and  restrained, 
will  expose  itself  through  the  highest  accompfish- 
30 


350 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


ments  of  learning  and  religion.  The  absence  of  this 
quality  makes  even  man  a very  uncomfortable  asso- 
ciate, and  troublesome  citizen.  With  much  more 
truth  this  may  be  said  of  woman.  Solomon  de- 
scribes some  female  characters,  devoid  of  loveliness, 
with  his  accustomed  power  and  keen  sarcasm.  He 
speaks  of  “ the  foolish  woman,”  and  “ the  brawling 
woman  ; ” “ the  woman  that  maketh  ashamed,”  and 
“ the  odious  woman ; ” “ the  fair  woman  without  dis- 
cretion,” and  “ the  contentious  woman : ” and  all  of 
them  receive  their  just  dues  from  his  biting  words. 

Amiability  seldom  exists  except  with  a group  of 
lovely  graces.  It  always  suggests  to  the  beholder, 
that  the  possessor  has  other  excellences  no  less  at- 
tractive. Hence  it  is  the  part  of  wisdom  for  yormg 
ladies  to  cherish  this  virtue.  It  will  prepare  them  to 
scatter  flowers  of  pleasure,  wherever  they  move.  In 
every  circle,  and  especially  at  home,  this  lovely  spirit 
will  fall  as  the  mellow  light  of  morning.  In  the 
words  of  another,  it  will  cause  them  to  “ shine  in 
colors,  purer  and  brighter  than  pearl  or  diamond  or 
prism  can  reflect.  Arabian  gardens,  in  their  bloom, 
can  exhale  no  such  sweetness  as  a lovely  spirit  dif- 
fuses.” 

Closely  allied  to  amiability  is  gentleness.  This, 
in  its  highest  development,  is  the  out\vard  expression 
of  what  the  Apostle  calls  “ a meek  and  quiet  spirit.” 
Mr.  James  comments  upon  it  as  follows : “ How  ex- 
quisitely is  this  put.  How  impressive  the  ideas  which 
are  conveyed.  It  is  the  decoration  of  the  soul  rather 
than  of  the  body,  about  which  Christian  women 
should  be  chiefly  solicitous ; and  about  the  orna- 
ments that  are  suitable  to  its  own  nature.  The  soul 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


351 


is  indestructible  and  immortal,  — so  should  its  orna- 
ments be.  What  can  jewels  of  silver  or  jew^els  of 
gold  do  for  this?  Can  the  diamond  sparkle  upon 
the  intellect  ? or  the  ruby  blaze  upon  the  heart  ? or  the 
pearl  be  set  in  the  conscience  ? or  the  gorgeous  robe 
clothe  the  character?  or  the  feather  or  the  flower 
wave  over  the  whole  renewed  and  holy  nature? 
No  ! The  appropriate  ornaments  of  the  sord  are 
truth  and  holiness,  knowledge,  faith,  hope,  love,  joy, 
humihty,  and  all  the  other  gifts  and  graces  of  the 
spirit,  — wisdom,  prudence,  fortitude,  and  gentleness, 

— these  are  the  jewels  with  which  the  inner  man 
should  be  adorned.  The  outer  man  is  coiTuptible. 
Dust  it  is,  and  unto  dust  it  shall  return.  That  beau- 
tiful woman,  ghttering  in  all  the  profusion  of  dia- 
monds, the  admflation  and  envy  of  the  court  or  the 
ballroom,  must  ere  long  be  a mass  of  putrefaction 
too  ghastly  to  be  looked  upon,  — a hideous  skeleton, 

— a collection  of  bones,  — a heap  of  dust.  And 
where  then  will  be  the  immortal  spirit  ? and  will  it 
wear  the  cast  off  jewels  of  the  body?  O no!  these 
remain  rescued  from  the  grasp  of  the  king  of  terrors 
only  to  ornament  other  bodies,  but  not  to  prepare 
their  souls  for  immortal  glory.  But  turn  now  to  that 
other  female, — the  wmman  who,  regardless  of  the 
decoration  of  the  body,  was  all  intent  upon  the  beau- 
ty of  the  soul, — look  at  her,  I say,  who  was  clothed 
wdth  the  robe  of  righteousness  and  the  garment  of 
salvation,  and  decorated  with  the  ornament  of  a 
“ meek  and  quiet  spirit'^  She  too  dies,  and  whatever 
of  beauty  there  was  in  her  person  dies  for  a season 
with  her  ; but  the  indestructible  and  immortal  spirit, 
over  which  death  hath  no  dominion,  goes  not  una- 


352 


LIFE  AT  THE  PIRESIDB. 


domed  into  the  presence  of  the  Eternal,  for  the  jew- 
els with  which  it  decorated  itself  on  earth  are  as  in- 
destructible as  its  own  nature,  and  go  with  it  to  shine 
in  the  presence  of  God.” 

Artless  simplicity  should  be  named  in  connection 
with  the  foregoing.  Nothing  is  more  disgusting  in  a 
female  than  affectation.  It  is  a form  of  vanity  which 
carries  its  own  condemnation.  No  person,  not  even 
the  vainest  worldling,  can  respect  it  in  other  persons. 
Its  exhibition  very  naturally  reminds  one  of  the 
Apostle’s  words,  “ For  if  a man  think  himself  to  be 
something  when  he  is  nothing,  he  deceiveth  himself.” 
It  is  evidence  of  a degree  of  mental  weakness. 

Simplicity  of  manners  is  opposed  to  every  form  of 
vanity,  and  these  forms  are  numerous.  Vanity 
sometimes  exposes  itself  through  a precise  pronunci- 
ation. It  is  well  to  speak  correctly ; and  attention 
should  be  given  to  this  acquirement ; but  a too  nip- 
ping measurement  of  every  word  reminds  a person 
of  the  “blind  guides,”  who  “ strain  at  a gnat,  and 
swallow  a camel.”  Vanity  also  appears  in  certain 
“ airs  ” or  bodily  contortions.  It  is  impossible  to  de- 
scribe these.  Like  best  garments  they  are  put  on  for 
the  occasion,  and  need  only  to  be  seen  in  order  to  be 
known.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to  enjoy  a very  ample 
observation  to  discover  such  exhibitions.  This  is 
one  of  the  fashions  not  derived  from  France,  but 
from  the  American  peacock. 

The  same  thing  appears  in  devotion  to  fashion. 
There  are  those  among  young  ladies,  and  the  num- 
ber is  not  small,  whose  whole  aim  is  to  be  fashiona- 
ble. In  dress,  manners,  companionships,  riding, 
walking,  talking,  eating,  and  I had  almost  said  sleep- 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


353 


iiig,  they  ape  certain  cii’cles,  which  control  the  fash- 
ions. Without  any  regard  to  comfort,  health,  long 
or  short  life,  they  torture  themselves  almost  as  cruelly 
as  the  worshipper  of  a Hindoo  idol.  Fashion  is  the 
most  unmerciful  tyrantess  that  ever  ruled  the  world. 
Her  subjects  wear  gauze  in  winter,  and  fmrs  in  sum- 
mer, at  her  bidding.  They  do  a thousand  things 
that  would  wellnigh  kill  them,  if  obliged  to  do  th^ 
in  behalf  of  suffering  humanity.  In  other  spheres  of 
life  they  would  be  called  self-denials,  and  perhaps 
self-immolations.  In  no  one  thing  does  vanity  ap- 
pear in  a manner  so  stiildng  as  in  dress.  Some 
months  ago,  a wholesale  merchant  and  importer  ut- 
tered the  following  truthful  words  before  a public 
assembly.  Addressing  the  President  of  the  Ameri- 
can Woman’s  Education  Society,  he  said,  “ You 
have  got  hold  of  a great  matter.  Sir.  I hope  you 
will  succeed.  The  women  are  wrong.  Sir.  They  are 
not  educated  right.  They  are  going  to  bankrupt  the 
country,  unless  there  is  a change.  More  is  thought 
of  show  than  substance.  We  pay  scores  of  millions 
annually  for  ladies’  ornaments  which  'are  of  no  use. 
We  cannot  afford  it.  It  is  worse  than  sinking  the 
gold  in  the  sea!  We  are  paying  more  duties  on  ar- 
tificial flowers  than  on  raikoad  kon ! God  help  you 
to  elevate  the  position  and  the  aim  of  woman ! ” 
These  words  will  not  be  thought  extravagant  when 
it  is  known  that  a single  store,  for  the  sale  of  laces 
and  other  fancy  goods,  in  the  city  of  Boston,  is 
rented  for  ten  thousand  dollars.  The  amount  of 
vanity  that  is  exhibited  through  aU  this  is  not  small. 

One  of  the  worst  features  of  this  evil  is  the  strong 
hold  which  it  has  upon  the  influential  classes, 

30* 


354 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Hume  tells  us  that  the  whole  priesthood  of  England 
fought  in  vain  against  certain  pernicious  fashions, 
for  the  space  of  two  centuries.  It  appears  that  they 
now  resist  the  strongest  influence  of  wisdom,  hu- 
manity, and  religion. 

It  may  be  difficult  to  prescribe  a rule  to  regulate 
the  matter  of  dress,  especially  among  Christian 
women.  But  Barnes,  in  commentating  upon  a text 
in  the  first  Epistle  of  Peter,  has  made  the  best  re- 
marks upon  the  subject  that  I have  seen.  He  says, 
“ It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  all  use  of  gold  or 
pearls  as  articles  of  dress  is  here  forbidden ; but  the 
idea  is,  that  the  Christian  female  is  not  to  seek  these 
as  the  adorning  which  she  desires,  or  is  not  to  imi- 
tate the  world  in  these  personal  decorations.  It 
may  be  a difficult  question  to  settle  how  much  orna- 
ment is  allowable,  and  when  the  true  line  is  passed. 
But  though  this  cannot  be  settled  by  any  exact  rules, 
since  much  must  depend  on  age,  and  on  the  relative 
rank  in  fife,  and  the  means  which  one  may  possess ; 
yet  there  is  one  general  rule,  which  is  applicable  to 
aU,  and  which  might  regulate  all.  It  is,  that  the  true 
fine  is  passed  when  more  is  thought  of  this  external 
adorning  than  of  the  ornament  of  the  heart.  Any 
external  decoration  which  occupies  the  mind  more 
than  the  virtues  of  the  heart,  and  which  engrosses  the 
time  and  attention  more,  we  may  be  certain  is 
wrong.  The  apparel  should  be  such  as  not  to  attract 
attention ; such  as  becomes  our  situation ; such  as 
will  not  be  particularly  singular  ; such  as  shall  leave 
the  impression  that  the  heart  is  not  fixed  on  it.  It  is 
a poor  ambition  to  decorate  a dying  body  with  gold 
and  pearls.  It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  the  body 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


355 


thus  adorned  will  soon  need  other  habiliments,  and 
will  occupy  a position  where  gold  and  pearls  would 
be  a mockery.  When  the  heart  is  right,  when  there 
is  true  and  supreme  love  for  religion,  it  is  usually 
not  difficult  to  regulate  the  subject  of  dress.” 

Vanity  often  controls  the  education.  It  does  not 
require  much  discrimination  to  perceive  that  daugh- 
ters are  educated,  in  a multitude  of  instances,  for  dis- 
play. We  see  this  in  the  character  of  the  boarding- 
schools  that  are  selected.  A distinguished  teacher 
recently  gave  me  a description  of  a private  ladies’ 
school  in  a large  city,  patronized  only  by  the  most 
opulent  classes.  The  teacher  regulates  the  school, 
in  respect  to  studies  and  discipline,  to  suit  the  aris- 
tocratic parents.  Little  attention  is  given  to  math- 
ematics, and  other  important  branches,  as  if  they 
were  too  substantial  for  the  gay  and  dazzling  life,  for 
which  the  pupils  are  educated.  The  more  ornate 
branches  are  attended  to,  and  the  motions  of  the  body 
are  carefully  trained.  No  visitors  are  allowed  in 
this  school,  except  the  patrons,  — a truly  wise  arrange- 
ment for  the  reputation  of  parents,  teacher,  and 
scholars.  When  these  young  ladies  graduate  at 
this  institution  they  are  fitted,  — for  what  ? For  dis- 
play at  “ Vanity  Fair,”  and  for  nothing  else.  They 
cannot  make  good  teachers,  good  housekeepers,  nor 
good  wives.  Indeed,  they  would  not  think  of  ven- 
turing upon  either  of  these  vocations  except  the 
latter.  Herein  is  waste  of  time  and  money,  a woful 
lack  of  good-sense,  as  well  as  destruction  of  mental 
and  moral  powers.  All  for  vanity  ! 

In  many  other  ways  vanity  is  exhibited  ; but  we 
have  seen  enough  to  understand  its  nature  and 


356 


LIFE  AT  THE  FTRESIDE. 


workings.  It  is  always  inconsistent  with  true  sim- 
plicity of  manners  and  strength  of  mind.  They  err 
egregiously  who  suppose  that  good  behavior  con- 
sists in  such  frivohties.  “ All  true  refinement  has  its 
seat  in  the  heart.  It  implies  purity  and  benevolence 
of  affection,  together  with  a Lively  and  delicate  sense 
of  propriety.  In  this  view  it  is  a most  amiable  and 
desirable  accomplishment.  It  is  a passport  to  good 
society,  and  an  important  means  of  moral  influence.” 

Ajiother  characteristic  of  a model  female  is  forti- 
tude, such  as  springs  from  self-rehance.  This  qual- 
ity is  perfectly  consistent  with  true  modesty.  It  is  a 
sort  of  reserved  preparation  for  particular  crises,  and 
therefore  never  need  be  inimical  to  a humble,  retu- 
ing  spirit.  No  woman  ever  possessed  more  of  gen- 
uine modesty  than  Queen  Esther.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  trial  to  which  she  was  subjected,  and  with 
which  the  reader  is  perfectly  familiar,  we  might  have 
supposed  that  she  was  totally  unfitted  for  reverses  of 
fortune,  — for  seasons  of  perplexity  and  darkness. 
But  when  the  test-hour  came,  and  destruction,  as  a 
portentous  cloud,  hung  over  her  beloved  people, 
what  enthusiasm  and  fortitude  fired  her  soul!  At 
first,  her  womanly  heart  di-ew  back  from  the  ap- 
palling crisis,  and  she  seemed  to  say,  “ it  is  impos- 
sible.” But  when  she  had  full  view  of  her  respon- 
sibilities in  the  matter,  and  saw  the  hand  of  God  in 
bringing  her  to  such  a time  as  that,  she  went  for- 
ward in  the  strength  of  exalted  wisdom  and  courage. 
God  smiled  upon  her  efforts ; and  the  dark  cloud 
that  hung  over  her  nation  was  broken  and  scattered. 

The  example  of  Esther  dlustrates  what  we  mean 
by  fortitude.  No  young  woman  can  say  that  bitter 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


357 


trials  may  not  be  her  lot.  There  are  so  many  illus- 
trations of  the  uncertainty  of  worldly  joys  and  pos- 
sessions around  her,  that  she  cannot  fail  to  see  her 
exposure  to  the  saddest  reverses.  It  may  be  said 
with  truth,  that  females  are  exposed  to  greater  trials 
than  males.  They  are  often  the  greatest  sufferers 
from  those  vices  to  which  males  are  addicted.  In- 
temperance  inflicts  more  pangs  upon  the  heart  of 
woman  than  it  does  upon  the  heart  of  man.  Thou- 
sands of  mothers,  wives,  daughters,  and  sisters  are 
made  wretched  for  life,  in  consequence  of  the  fall  of 
sons,  husbands,  fathers,  and  brothers,  by  this  dread- 
ful demon.  It  would  be  weUnigh  impossible  to  find 
such  appalling  scenes  of  grief  and  mental  agony 
among  men  as  exist  among  females,  in  consequence 
of  the  drunkenness  of  their  friends.  To  some  extent, 
these  remarks  are  true  in  regard  to  other  evils.  Fe- 
males are  often  the  greatest  sufferers. 

I have  seen  a female,  nurtured  in  the  lap  of  luxury, 
once  the  flower  and  pet  of  an  affluent  circle,  pos- 
sessing every  accomplishment  which  wealth  could 
purchase,  brought  early  in  her  wedded  life  to  pen- 
ury and  toil.  Her  delicate  hands  were  unused  to 
labor,  and  her  spirit  was  trained  more  for  sunshine 
than  storm.  She  had  never  dreamed  that  a reverse 
of  fortune  could  change  the  course  of  her  smooth  and 
sunny  life.  With  the  fairest  prospects  she  was  led 
to  the  bridal  altar,  and  became  the  wife  of  one  who 
fell  a victim  to  intemperance  ere  five  years  of  mar- 
ried life  had  passed  away.  For  such  a change  she 
was  totally  unprepared,  and  her  proud  heart  sunk 
within  her. 

There  are  thousands  of  cases  just  like  this ; and 


358 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


other  thousands  equally  sad,  though  resulting  from 
other  causes.  It  is  the  part  of  wisdom  for  females 
to  take  a proper  view  of  life,  and  be  prepared  for  the 
saddest  changes.  More  than  half  of  the  misery  thal 
follows  great  reverses  may  be  alleviated  by  meeting 
them  with  a proper  spiiit.  Besides,  it  does  no  good 
to  sink  down  into  despondency,  and  drag  others 
with  us.  Nothing  but  unhappiness  results  from  such 
conduct.  Woman  can  inspire  the  heart  of  a hus- 
band, son,  or  brother  wdth  courage  and  enthusiasm ; 
and  this  is  noble  in  comparison  with  that  spirit, 
which,  in  every  hour  of  perplexity  and  ti'ouble,  cries 
“ all  is  lost.”  In  this  w’ay,  daughters  have  pined 
awmy  over  their  father’s  misfortunes,  and  nearly 
crushed  their  hearts,  when  they  ought  to  have  sus- 
tained them  by  hopeful  words,  and  a cheerful  view  of 
the  future.  In  this  wmy,  too,  irresolute  women  have 
paralyzed  the  efforts  of  their  husbands  when  their 
circumstances  were  unpropitious,  and  thus  increased 
their  trials,  instead  of  sharing  the  burden  with  them. 
They  are  not  “ helpmates,”  but  the  opposite.  A 
merchant  once  decided  not  to  undertake  an  enter- 
prise, because  his  wife  discouraged  it.  It  proved, 
afterwards,  that  he  would  have  been  successful 
therein.  To  his  wdfe,  who  then  expressed  surprise 
that  he  did  not  engage  in  it,  he  replied  : “ It  destroys 
the  enthusiasm  of  a man  for  any  work,  to  hear  dis- 
couraging words  from  his  wife.  He  has  this  dis- 
heartening thing  to  contend  against,  in  addition  to 
aU  the  uncertainties  and  vexations  of  traffic.  I want 
a woman  to  enter  into  the  reasonable  plans  of  her 
husband  with  hopefulness  and  deep  interest,  as  if 
she  were  determined  to  share  failure  or  success  with 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


359 


him.  It  puts  spirit  into  a man.”  There  is  much 
truth  in  these  words,  and  young  women  may  learn 
an  important  lesson  from  them. 

There  is  an  incident,  connected  with  the  revolu- 
tionary history  of  our  country,  wliich  always  excited 
my  admiration.  When  the  British  soldiers  were 
advancing  towards  Lexington,  and  the  news  spread 
that  they  were  close  by,  a Mrs.  Harrington  ran  to  the 
stairway,  and  shouted  to  her  sleeping  son  of  sixteen 
years,  “ Jonathan,  you  must  get  up ; the  regulars  are 
coming.  Something  must  be  done ! ” 

There  was  resolution,  self-relianee,  and  fortitude  in 
her  caU.  Half  the  females  would  be  frightened  out 
of  then-  wits  at  such  a crisis,  and  many  others  would 
think  it  was  not  genteel  to  be  calm  and  self-possessed 
at  such  a time.  But  to  me  such  a spirit  seems  to  be 
absolutely  necessary  in  a world  like  this.  All  women 
have  not  an  army  of  British  soldiers  at  their  doors, 
but  there  is  an  army  of  disappointments  and  sorrows, 
which  cannot  be  met  and  resisted  without  fortitude. 
Weep,  if  you  please,  over  the  dials  of  life  (and  she 
must  be  indeed  an  unfeeling  woman  who  has  no 
tears  to  shed  over  many  scenes  and  experiences) ; 
but  never  allow  yourselves  to  sink  down  into  intol- 
erable wretchedness,  to  become  discontented  or  un- 
pleasant, melancholy  or  morose,  so  long  as  the  grace 
of  God  is  proffered  through  Jesus  Christ.  Make  the 
best  of  aU  the  ills  of  life,  for  this  is  womanly  and 
Christian. 

There  is  a scene  recorded  in  the  Gospel  of  John, 
illustrative  of  the  subject  before  us,  which  is  worthy 
of  the  artist’s  pencil.  It  is  that  of  the  mother  of 
Jesus  standing  by  his  cross,  a witness  to  the  agonies 


360 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


of  his  ignominious  death.  She  was  a woman  of 
strong  affections,  unaffected  modesty,  and  devoted 
piety.  Of  course,  the  crucifixion  of  her  son  was  the 
last  scene  she  would  desire  to  behold.  What  mother 
or  daughter  would  wish  to  witness  the  execution  of 
a son  or  brother,  whether  innocent  or  guilty  ? How 
few  could  behold  the  tragical  scene  with  seif-pos- 
session ! But  there  stands  the  mother  of  Jesus,  a 
woman  of  refined  feelings  and  ardent  love,  to  behold 
the  terrible  death  of  her  son ! The  crisis  has  come 
upon  her  ; and  her  soul  is  equal  to  the  emergency. 
As  her  day^  so  her  strength  is.  Cahn,  unterrified, 
resolute,  submissive,  she  looks  on,  as  cruel  hands 
drive  nails  into  his  sensitive  flesh.  No  mortal 
tongue  can  describe  the  horrors  of  that  hour;  and 
yet  her  noble  heart,  stayed  on  God,  is  more  tran- 
quil than  the  hearts  of  many  females  when  com- 
pelled to  part  with  an  ornament,  or  forego  an  even- 
ing of  pleasure!  No  one  can  view  this  example, 
and  not  admire. 

Thoughtfulness  ought  to  characterize  young 
women.  We  would  not  advocate  a too  serious 
view  of  life  and  its  issues,  such  as  would  render  a 
person  gloomy  and  sad.  By  no  means.  It  is  not  a 
sin  to  be  cheerful.  They  who  possess  most  of  gen- 
uine piety,  will  also  possess  most  of  genuine  cheer- 
fulness. But  it  is  well  known  that  multitudes  of 
young  ladies  are  light  and  trifling,  and  conduct  as  if 
they  were  created  for  folly  and  merriment.  They 
are  distinguished  for  levity,  which  always  indicates 
the  absence  of  a serious  view  of  things.  It  is  not 
at  all  difficult  to  find  young  females  who  appear  to 
be  happy  only  when  participating  in  the  most  ex- 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


361 


citing  scenes  of  pleasure.  One  would  infer,  from 
their  attention  to  amusements,  that  earth  is  a ball- 
room, and  the  sound  of  every  breeze  a dancing  tune. 
Their  conversation,  airs,  and  whole  demeanor,  are 
light  as  the  “ baseless  fabric  of  a vision.”  It  is  well- 
nigh  impossible  for  them  to  utter  sensible  words 
upon  important  subjects.  The  thoughtfulness  of 
which  we  speak  is  opposed  to  this  senseless  levity. 
It  takes  a serious  view  of  life.  It  is  not  blind  to  the 
fact,  that  duties  and  trials  exist,  — that  the  world  is 
visited  with  storms  as  well  as  sunshine,  — and  that 
the  soul  lives  when  its  decorated  temple  has  crum- 
bled to  dust.  It  acknowledges  the  comparative 
worthlessness  of  beauty,  which  a cutaneous  disease 
may  destroy  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  of  pleasure 
scenes  that  neither  elevate  the  soul  nor  make  soft 
the  dying  pillow. 

That  this  quality  needs  to  be  more  tenderly  cher- 
ished by  young  females,  no  one  can  doubt.  For  it  is 
evident  that  many  of  them  regard  the  aforesaid 
trifles  as  the  only  source  of  happiness.  A most 
thoughtless  conclusion ! What  would  they  think  of 
the  man  who  should  spend  months  and  years  in 
finding  a supposed  mine  of  gold  on  his  farm  by 
performing  certain  manipulations  ? They  would 
call  him  a dunce,  fool,  or  lunatic.  And  yet,  this  is 
just  as  reasonable,  and  consistent  with  the  laws  of 
our  being,  as  to  seek  substantial  happiness  in  the 
pleasure  scenes  of  the  world ! 

Thoughtfulness  becomes  the  female  character. 
In  some  respects  it  is  more  befitting  females  than 
males.  Whether  we  view  it  in  connection  with  the 

31 


362 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


immortal  nature,  or  the  circumstances  in  which  we 
dahy  live  and  move,  it  is  valuable  and  essential. 

Conscientiousness  should  also  be  cultivated.  The 
want  of  this  is  a serious  defect  in  character,  male  or 
female : but  in  the  latter  it  is  especially  repugnant 
to  our  feelings.  We  have  seen  that  woman  ■\AT,elds  a 
powerful  influence,  and  this  ought,  certainly,  to  be 
under  the  direction  of  conscientiousness.  We  are 
accustomed  to  say,  that  the  more  education  and 
power  a man  possesses,  uncontrolled  by  moral  prin- 
ciple, the  more  dangerous  he  is.  This  is  equally  true 
of  woman.  Indeed,  when  we  consider  that  she 
exerts  the  greatest  influence  just  where  and  when 
character  is  forming,  a discriminating  and  active 
conscience  is  far  more  necessary.  It  has  been  said 
that  an  “ evil  woman  is  worse  than  an  evil  man.” 
Both  are  bad  enough,  but  still  there  is  truth  in  that 
remark.  If  we  consult  the  pages  of  history  we  shall 
find  that,  whenever  and  wherever  woman  has  fallen, 
she  has  plunged  deeply  into  shame.  There  appears 
to  be  a law  of  moral  deterioration,  by  which  aU  cases 
of  human  degradation  are  graduated.  Very  often 
men,  who  have  risen  to  the  most  enviable  position  in 
respect  to  social  and  intellectual  attainments,  be- 
come the  most  heartless  and  shameless  sinners  when 
they  fall.  The  more  nearly  they  approach  to  angels 
in  the  days  of  their  integrity,  the  more  closely  they 
appear  to  become  allied  to  devils  when  they  descend 
to  vice  and  crime.  For  this  reason,  perhaps,  the 
high  position  of  woman,  in  respect  to  delicacy  and 
refinement,  exposes  her  to  this  appalling  alternative 
of  deep  and  damning  guilt,  when  she  forsakes  her 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


363 


hold  upon  virtue  — and  falls.  At  any  rate,  the  ex- 
amples of  astounding  feminine  corruption  and  cru- 
elty in  the  world  are  numerous.  A long,  black  cat- 
alogue of  them  are  given  in  the  Scriptures.  There 
are  Adah  and  Zdlah,  the  first  supporters  of  polygamy; 
the  incestuous  daughters  of  Lot ; the  adulterous 
wife  of  Potiphar;  the  harlot  Delilah;  the  impure 
Bathsheba ; the  murderous  Jezebel ; the  malignant 
and  shameless  Herodias ; and  others  of  like  unen- 
viable notoriety. 

Then  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  conscientiousness 
is  as  necessary  for  females  as  for  males.  If  matters 
pertaining  to  dress,  education,  associations,  reading, 
amusements,  and  other  things,  are  controlled  and 
regulated  by  conscience,  the  character  becomes  as 
perfect  as  humanity  can  be  in  this  sin-ensnaring 
world. 

Probably  young  women  sometimes  think  that  they 
are  conscientious,  when  this  is  true  of  them  only  in 
certain  particulars.  Persons  are  frequently  guided 
by  conscience  in  one  thing,  when  they  ignore  it  in 
another.  As,  for  example,  a man  might  scrupulous- 
ly avoid  theft,  whUe  he  might  not  hesitate  to  lie  ; or, 
he  might  shun  falsehood,  and  practise  deceit.  But 
the  conscientiousness,  whose  claims  we  urge,  is  a 
general  and  universal  regard  to  right.  The  con- 
science can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  trained  at  all,  when 
it  is  deliberately  violated  in  some  things,  though  it 
be  regarded  in  others. 

Conscience  is  violated  often,  when,  perhaps,  it  is 
scarcely  realized.  This  is  done  by  the  young  lady, 
when  she  regards  fashion  without  consulting  health  ; 
or  when  she  asks  herself,  what  will  be  thought  of 


364 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


my  course  ? rather  than,  is  it  right  ? or,  when  she  en- 
deavors to  find  pleasure  rather  than  to  be  useful ; or 
when  she  places  ornament  before  excellence,  and  the 
adulations  of  the  world  before  the  favor  of  God.  In 
aU  these  and  kindred  ways,  conscience  is  disregarded, 
and  another  rule  of  life  adopted.  Hence  the  reader 
will  see  that  it  is  very  easy  to  violate  this  moral 
sense,  and  that  it  is  done,  in  thousands  of  instances, 
when  the  transgressor  is  not  really  aware  of  it.  This 
is  one  of  the  nicest  points  for  the  exercise  of  discrim- 
ination and  fortitude  that  can  claim  the  attention  of 
young  women. 

Sympathy  and  benevolence  are  more  important 
to  woman  than  either  of  the  foregoing  quafities. 
These  two  graces  occupy  distinct  spheres  in  one 
respect ; but  inasmuch  as  the  latter  embraces  the 
former,  they  will  be  considered  in  connection. 
Sympathy  may  exist  without  benevolence  ; but  be- 
nevolence cannot  exist  without  true  sympathy. 

It  is  freely  conceded  that,  in  the  exercise  of  those 
finer  feelings  belonging  to,  or  intimately  connected 
with,  these  attributes,  the  female  excels  the  male 
sex.  They  seem  to  be  especially  adapted  by  nature 
for  the  exercise  of  those  affections  that  render  home 
desirable,  and  those  delightful  charities  that  greatly 
alleviate  the  wants  and  woes  of  mankind.  They 
have  performed  a mission  so  important  in  this  re- 
gard, that  social  life  would  be  quite  another  thing 
without  their  kind  ministrations.  In  the  abodes  of 
sickness  and  sorrow,  in  the  humble  dwelling  of  want, 
and  wherever  a pang  is  felt  or  a tear  wept,  their 
cheering  kindnesses  have  been  enjoyed.  Another 
inquires,  “ In  what  age,  or  in  what  country  of  the 


BEAU  IDEAL  OP  A YOUNO  WOMAN. 


365 


world,  has  woman  forfeited  her  character  as  the 
ministering  angel  of  humanity  ? When  and  where 
has  the  female  bosom  abjured  the  claims  of  misery, 
and  repudiated  the  virtue  of  benevolence  ? Arctic 
snows  have  not  frozen  up  the  spring  of  mercy  in  the 
female  heart,  nor  tropical  suns  evaporated  it.  Tyran- 
ny has  not  crushed  it  out,  nor  barbarism  extinguished 
it.  Look  at  Mungo  Park,  the  African  traveller,  when 
alone  in  the  midst  of  Africa,  and  lying  down  to  die 
in  want  and  despair,  found  by  the  black  women  of 
that  dark  land,  carried  to  their  tent,  fed,  clad,  and 
cherished^mid  the  wild  strains  of  their  impromptu 
song,  with  which  they  cheered  the  feelings  of  his 
heart,  and  expressed  the  benevolence  of  their  own.” 

“ It  was  not  woman  who  slept  during  the  agonies 
of  Gethsemane  ; it  was  not  woman  who  denied  her 
Lord  at  the  palace  of  Caiaphas  ; it  was  not  woman 
that  deserted  his  cross  on  the  hiU  of  Calvary.  But 
it  was  woman  that  dared  testify  her  respect  for  his 
corpse,  that  procured  spices  for  embalming  it,  and 
that  was  found  last  at  night  and  first  in  the  morning 
at  his  sepulchre.” 

These  are  facts  that  appear  on  every  hand,  to  the 
credit  of  the  female  sex ; and  they  serve  to  exhibit 
the  true  worth  and  beauty  of  these  traits  of  charac- 
ter. They  should  lead  young  women  to  beware  of 
selfishness  as  not  only  unlovely  and  wicked,  but 
also  a libel  upon  their  sex.  One  of  the  most  revolt- 
ing scenes  in  the  world  is  an  unfeeling  woman.  A 
man  of  this  stamp  is  repulsive  enough ; but  a com- 
passionless female  is  worse.  She  is  sure  to  lack 
other  winning  qualities  of  her  sex,  and  possess,  in 
31* 


366 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


their  place,  the  coarsest  and  most  unwomanly  char- 
acteristics. 

The  distinguished  WiUiam  Wirt  expresses  himself 
as  follows  upon  this  subject,  in  a letter  to  his  daugh- 
ter : “ I want  to  teU  you  a secret,”  he  says.  “ The 
whole  world  is  hke  the  miller  at  Mansfield ; he  cared 
for  nobody,  — no,  not  he,  — because  nobody  cared 
for  him.  And  the  whole  world  wall  serve  you  so,  if 
you  give  them  the  same  cause.  Let  every  one  there- 
fore see  that  you  care  for  them,  by  showdng  them 
what  Sterne  so  happily  calls  ‘ the  small,  sweet  cour- 
tesies of  life,’  in  which  there  is  no  para(^ ; whose 
voice  is  too  stiU  to  tease,  and  which  manifest  them- 
selves by  tender  and  affectionate  looks  and  little  acts 
of  attention,  — giving  others  the  preference  in  every 
little  enjoyment  at  the  table,  in  the  field,  walking, 
sitting,  or  standing.  This  is  the  spirit  that  gives 
your  sex  its  sweetest  charm.  It  constitutes  the  sum 
total  of  the  witchcraft  of  women.  Let  the  world 
see  that  your  first  care  is  for  yourself,  and  you  will 
spread  a solitude  of  the  upas-tree  around  you,  in  the 
same  way,  by  the  emanation  of  a poison  which  kills 
all  the  juices  of  affection  in  its  neighborhood.  Such 
a girl  may  be  admired  for  her  understanding  and 
accomplishments,  but  she  wdU  never  be  beloved.” 

“ The  seeds  of  love  can  never  grow,  but  under  the 
warm  and  genial  influence  of  kind  feelings  and  affec- 
tionate manners.  Vivacity  goes  a great  way  in 
young  persons.  It  calls  attention  to  her  who  dis- 
plays it.  K it  then  be  found  associated  with  a gen- 
erous sensibility,  its  execution  is  irresistible.  On 
the  contrary,  if  it  be  found  in  affiance  mth  a cold, 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


367 


haughty,  selfish  heart,  it  produces  no  other  effect  than 
an  adverse  one.” 

An  accomplished  woman  was  wont  to  paint  Scrip- 
ture scenes  and  seU  them,  in  order  to  possess  the 
means  of  doing  greater  good.  The  money  she  re- 
ceived for  these  works  of  art  was  devoted  wholly  to 
objects  of  benevolence.  She  was  enabled  thereby  to 
accomplish  a great  amount  of  good.  However  much 
individuals  may  differ  about  the  propriety  of  this  or 
that  cause  of  benevolence,  all  must  admire  this  kind 
and  generous  spirit.  It  imparts  loveliness  to  female 
character,  which  none  can  fail  to  acknowledge.  In 
comparison  with  it,  what  are  the  richest  embellish- 
ments of  art ! What  the  splendid  show  of  orna- 
ments and  costly  apparel ! What  the  nameless 
decorations  of  taste  and  fashion ! Who  would  not 
rather  experience  the  satisfaction  of  causing  one 
widow’s  heart  to  sing  for  joy,  than  to  be  the  mere 
belle  of  the  wealthiest  circle?  Is  there  not  more 
lovehness,  not  to  say  Christian  feeling  and  honor,  in 
conveying  blessings  to  earth’s  sighing  outcasts,  and 
making  the  cheerless  homes  of  want  and  suffering 
brighter  and  dearer  ? Thousands  of  benevolent  wo- 
men answer,  yes  I They  have  fed  the  hungry,  clothed 
the  naked,  ministered  to  the  sick,  comforted  the  af- 
flicted, and  closed  the  eyes  of  the  dying ; and  these  are 
among  the  most  precious  recgUections  of  life.  They 
would  wiUingly  part  with  the  memories  of  the  ball- 
room and  theatre ; but  the  recollection  of  these  deeds 
of  kindness  and  charity  is  too  dear  to  be  sacrificed. 
The  poet  Tupper  has  a beautiful  poem  upon  this 
subject  addressed  to  the  other  sex,  a portion  of  which 
is  as  follows  : — 


368 


LIPE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


“ Away  with  false  fashion,  so  calm  and  so  chill, 

Where  pleasure  itself  cannot  please  ; 

Away  .with  cold  breeding,  that  faithlessly  still 
Affects  to  be  quite  at  its  ease  ; 

For  the  deepest  in  feeling  is  highest  in  rank, 

The  freest  is  first  in  the  band, 

And  nature’s  own  noblemen,  friendly  and  fi’ank, 

Is  a man  with  his  heart  in  his  hand. 

“ Fearless  in  honesty,  gentle  and  just. 

He  warmly  can  love,  — and  can  hate  ; 

Nor  will  he  bow  down  with  his  face  in  the  dust 
To  Fashion’s  intolerant  state  ; 

For  best  in  good  breeding,  and  highest  in  rank. 

Though  lowly  or  poor  in  the  land. 

Is  nature’s  o>vn  noblemen,  friendly  and  frank,  — 

The  man  -svith  his  heart  in  his  hand  ! ” 

One  of  the  most  delightful  words  in  the  English 
language  is  usefulness.  A higher  encomium  cannot 
be  passed  upon  woman  than  to  say,  “ she  is  useful.” 
To  be  able  to  say,  “ she  is  accomplished  ; ” or  “ she 
is  beautiful ; ” or  “ she  is  graceful,”  is  a poor  compli- 
ment in  comparison  with  this,  — “ she  is  useful.” 
Our  Saviour  never  spoke  of  a woman  in  terms  of 
higher  praise  than  he  did  of  Mary,  when  he  said, 
“ she  hath  done  what  she  could;”  and  this  adjective, 
useful.,  approximates  to  the  praise  bestowed  upon  the 
woman  of  Bethany. 

Yet  some  youijg  ladies  appear  to  make  them- 
selves as  useless  as  it  is  possible  for  human  beings 
to  be.  The  exercise  of  true  sympathy  and  benevo- 
lence, through  which  persons  become  useful,  seems 
scarcely  to  claim  a thought.  “ How  shall  we  shine 
in  this  and  that  company  ? ” is  the  inquiry  with  them, 
and  not,  “ how  shall  we  bless  somebody  ? ” Wax 


BEAU  IDEAL-  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


369 


figures  in  glass  cases,  arranged  in  the  bow  window 
of  a fancy  store,  are  just  as  useful.  Such  females 
makes  business  for  merchants,  mantuamakers,  and 
milliners,  and  aid  essentially  in  giving  employment 
to  the  ignorant  daughters  of  Ireland,  but  no  thanks 
to  them.  It  is  not  the  result  of  the  smallest  desire 
or  effort  to  be  useful.  They  care  for  no  one  but 
themselves,  as  the  whole  course  of  their  lives  plainly 
indicates. 

View,  in  the  contrast,  the  life  of  such  a woman  as 
the  Countess  of  Huntingdon.  Though  possessing 
the  means,  and  Occupying  the  position,  to  gratify 
every  desire  for  worldliness,  she  devoted  her  energies 
to  works  of  humanity  and  benevolence.  She  laid 
every  possession  upon  the  altar  of  God.  She  toiled 
for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  and  the  salvation  of  sin- 
ners. She  erected  chapels  at  her  own  expense,  in 
every  part  of  the  land,  and  provided  them  with  min- 
isters. She  thus  carried  the  Gospel  to  the  doors  of 
thousands  of  the  poor  and  perishing.  One  of  her 
last  deeds  of  charity  Avas  the  erection  of  a house  of 
worship  in  a large  city  of  her  native  land.  When 
this  enterprise  first  occupied  her  thoughts,  she  had 
expended  all  her  means  elsewhere.  How  to  erect 
another  place  of  worship,  and  especially  in  a place 
so  important,  did  not  at  first  appear.  At  length, 
however,  she  resolved  to  sell  her  jewels  in  order  to 
prosecute  the  work.  Her  resolution  was  carried  out, 
and  with  the  avails  she  erected  the  chapel  occupied 
by  Rev.  Joseph  Sartain.  Never  before  nor  since,  per- 
haps, was  there  such  a sacrifice  made  in  royal  circles 
for  the  cause  of  religion.  The  mere  worldling  may 
sneer  at  the  act,  and  call  it  superstition ; but  it  will 


370 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


live  in  undying  remembrance  when  her  costly  trink- 
ets have  perished,  and  her  soul  is  wailing  in  de- 
spair. Such  an  example  shows  that  benevolence  is 
a priceless  gem  among  the  adornments  of  female 
character. 

The  crowning  excellence  of  the  young  woman  is 
religion.  This  harmonizes  and  blends  more  sweetly 
all  other  qualities  of  the  heart.  Under  its  benign 
influence  other  graces  take  new  charms,  and  shine 
with  new  lustre.  Religion  does  not  render  one  vir- 
tue less  attractive.  On  the  other  hand,  it  renders 
loveliness  more  lovely  and  beauty  more  beautiful. 
Amiability  ^^^ns  the  heart,  and,  if  found  in  conjunc- 
tion with  goodness,  it  attracts  with  its  owu  peculiar 
magnetism. 

The  female  sex  have  expressed  their  appreciation 
of  true  religion  by  yielding  up  their  hearts  to  its 
power  more  generally  than  males  have  done.  A 
large  majority  of  professing  Christians  are  females. 
The  fact  is  so  well  knowm,  that  infidels  have  seized 
upon  it  as  a weapon  to  wield  against  Christianity. 
They  suppose,  since  women  are  not,  as  a class,  so 
strong-minded  as  men,  that  there  must  be  a weak- 
ness about  the  cause  which  they  so  generally  espouse. 
They  forget  another  fact,  equally  well  substantiated, 
that  females  possess  a quicker  moral  perception  than 
males,  and  their  hearts  are  less  corroded  by  contact 
with  a wicked  world.  Hence  it  is  rare  that  a female 
infidel  is  found.  There  have  been  such  characters, 
and  they  have  always  been  regarded  with  astonish- 
ment. Hume  once  informed  the  celebrated  Dr.  Greg- 
ory, that  he  numbered  several  females  among  his 
disciples  in  Edinburgh.  The  doctor  replied,  “ Tell 


BEAU  IDEAL  OE  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


371 


me,  whether,  if  you  had  a wife  or  a daughter,  you 
would  wish  them  to  be  your  disciples  ? Think  well 
before  you  answer  me  ; for  I assure  you,  that  what- 
ever your  answer  is,  I will  not  conceal  it.”  After 
some  hesitation,  Hume  replied,  with  smiles,  “ No ; 
I beheve  scepticism  may  be  too  sturdy  a virtue  for 
a woman.”  His  reply,  though  designed  to  be  eva- 
sive, sufficiently  disclosed  his  real  feelings.  He  could 
not  respect  a woman  who  would  trample,  with  him- 
self, upon  the  Christian  religion.  It  is  so  befitting 
her  sex  and  circumstances,  that  he  could  not  say  he 
would  have  a wife  or  daughter  reject  it.  He  might 
respect  infidel  men,  but  could  not  infidel  women. 
This  is  true  of  mankind  generally.  Even  if  religion 
were  a great  delusion,  we  should  prefer  to  see  it  pos- 
sessed by  females,  for  the  excellence  and  stability 
which  it  gives  to  their  characters.  This  fact  indi- 
cates a wonderful  adaptation  in  Christianity  to  their 
natures  and  wants.  This  adaptation  is  expressed 
also  by  the  peculiar  blessing  which  the  Gospel  has 
everywhere  conferred  upon  woman.  She  has  been 
degraded  in  every  country  where  the  Bible  has  not 
shed  its  light.  One  of  the  darkest  features  of  hea- 
thenism is  the  wretched  condition  of  wives  and 
daughters.  But  Christianity  has  always  elevated 
them.  They  now  occupy  the  most  enviable  position 
where  true  religion  has  the  firmest  hold. 

Young  women  need  religion  to  control  and  more 
richly  develop  certain  excellences  which  we  have 
seen  they  possess.  Gentleness,  modesty,  amiabili- 
ty, and  sympathy  we  have  seen  to  be  peculiarly  their 
possession.  Fidelity,  also,  appears  to  characterize 
them.  It  is  not  unusual  for  men  to  disregard  the 


372 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


plighted  vow,  and  become  tyrants  in  the  family,  rul- 
ing with  a rod  of  iron.  But  it  is  not  so  with  the 
other  sex.  Every  community  will  furnish  the  exam- 
ples of  a husband  who  has  dissolved  his  very  heart 
in  the  intoxicating  cup,  and  daily  outraged  the  feel- 
ings of  his  wife,  and  stdl  she  clings  to  him  with  a 
faithful  heart.  Now  let  these  noble  qualities  be  im- 
bued and  directed  by  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and  they 
become  even  more  useful  and  winning.  If  a young 
lady  be  gentle,  religion  will  make  her  more  gentle ; 
and  also  it  will  add  humility  to  gentleness.  K she 
be  sympathizing,  religion  will  give  a wider  range  and 
purer  aim  to  her  sympathies.  If  she  be  faithful  by 
nature,  religion  will  render  her  fidelity  permanent, 
through  a living  faith  in  Christ.  Hence  some  of  the 
brightest  examples  of  piety  are  found  among  females. 
Hence,  too,  fewer  gross  apostasies  occur  among  the 
female  members  of  the  church,  in  proporfion  to  their 
number,  than  among  the  males. 

This  class  need  religion  to  correct  some  of  those 
defects  of  character  to  which  we  have  pointed.  Af- 
fectation, pride,  trifling  conversation,  vanity,  en^w, 
jealousy,  gossip,  are  among  the  defects  of  the  sex. 
True  religion  will  correct  these  and  kindred  evUs. 
The  meekness  and  humility  which  it  enjoins  tviU 
banish  pride  and  vanity.  The  contentment  which  it 
teaches  will  destroy  envy  and  jealousy.  The  love 
of  the  spiritual  which  it  engenders  will  put  an  end 
to  the  idolatry  of  fashion.  The  new  sources  of  en- 
joyment which  it  opens  will  destroy  a relish  for  the 
ballroom.  The  serious  view  of  life  which  it  imparts 
will  remove  trifling  conversation.  The  charity  which 
it  enjoins  will  brand  as  folly,  gossip  and  slander. 


BEAU  IDEAL  OF  A YOUNG  WOMAN. 


373 


Thus,  true  religion  tends  to  cherish  all  that  is  excel- 
lent, and  to  correct  all  that  is  unlovely,  in  the  char- 
acter of  woman. 

Young  women  need  religion  to  protect  their  char- 
acter. “ A good  name  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than 
great  riches,”  by  any  person,  but  more  especially  by 
woman.  Character  is  every  thing  to  her.  And  yet 
it  is  the  most  delicate  of  all  her  possessions.  She 
loses  it  by  an  act  that  excites  little  attention  when 
performed  by  a man.  The  latter  may  stain  his  soul 
with  some  heinous  vice,  and  recover  his  character  in 
a few  years.  The  wealth  or  reputation  of  his  ances- 
tors will  plaster  over  his  disgrace ; and  he  will  min- 
gle again  in  good  society  without  showing  or  caus- 
ing a blush.  Indeed,  men  who  have  a bad  reputa- 
tion are  permitted  to  move  in  good  company,  espe- 
cially if  money  or  rank  lies  behind  their  characters,  or 
rather  behind  their  want  of  character.  Not  so  with 
women.  It  is  a difficult  matter  for  a young  lady  to 
recover  a forfeited  “ good  name.”  Once  lost,  it  is 
usually  lost  forever ! Silver  nor  gold,  gems  nor 
pearls,  can  buy  it  backl  Public  opinion  has  branded 
her  forehead  with  the  mark  of  Cain.  All  the  fineries 
of  art  and  wealth  cannot  conceal  the  moral  deform- 
ity. Go  where  she  may,  the  censure  of  an  indignant 
public  pursues  her.  The  corpse  of  a once  blooming 
reputation  she  must  bear  about  with  her  till  she 
dies.  It  is  a severe  penalty.  It  looks  like  oppres- 
sion. And  yet  we  are  constrained  to  believe  that  it 
is  one  of  the  wisest  arrangements  possible.  There  is 
more  character  in  the  world  because  of  it.  The  fe- 
male sex  stand  higher,  and  hence  man  is  better,  and 
society  purer,  than  they  otherwise  would  be. 

32 


374 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


In  these  circumstances,  religion  is  indispensable  to 
the  young  woman.  Her  safety  lies  in  it,  and  also 
her  triumph.  True  piety  is  a sure  safeguard  and 
guide.  A German  artist  has  executed  a painting  of 
the  following  scene.  The  figure  of  an  artless  girl 
is  sketched,  as  she  is  treading  a narrow  path,  on 
either  side  of  which  is  a frightful  precipice.  This 
path  is  bordered  on  both  sides  by  a luxurious  growth 
of  flowers,  that  completely  hide  her  danger.  Be- 
hind her  appears  an  angel,  spreading  his  bright  wdngs 
above  her,  while  his  hands  rest  gently  upon  her  shoul- 
ders. She  is  walking  along  with  her  eyes  closed,  that 
the  fruit  and  flowers  may  not  tempt  her,  while  a sweet 
smile  plays  over  her  countenance,  as  if  her  soul  were 
filled  with  a consciousness  of  safety  so  long  as 
she  feels  the  pressure  of  those  celestial  hands.  Re- 
ligion is  such  an  angel  guide.  The  young  wayfarer 
may  walk  in  safety  even  where  the  world  scatters  its 
tempting  fruits  and  flowers,  so  long  as  she  yields  her- 
self up  to  the  control  and  guidance  of  this  heavenly 
messenger. 


XV. 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


“ The  kindred  tie  that  bound  us  here, 

Though  rent  apart  with  many  a tear, 

Shall  be  renewed  in  heaven ! ” 

Huie. 

“ As  soon  or  late  we  reach  that  coast. 

O’er  life’s  rough  ocean  driven. 

May  all  rejoice,  no  wanderer  lost, 

The  family  in  heaven!  ” 

Burns. 


The  first  chapter  closed  with  a view  of  the  frail 
and  uncertain  tenure  which  marks  the  family  rela- 
tion. The  union,  at  best,  is  brief, — its  dissolution 
inevitable.  But  death  does  not  sever  the  bond 
forever.  If  it  did,  sad  indeed  would  be  the  earthly 
fellowship  of  kindred.  If  no  hope  of  reunion  were 
offered  to  the  faithful,  how  many  would  exclaim  at 
the  goal  of  life,  overwhelmed  at  the  thought  of  an 
eternal  parting,  would  that  I had  never  been  born  ! 

Thanks  for  the  precious  Gospel  which  comes  to  re- 
store the  severed  ties,  — to  reunite  the  broken  fami- 
lies, — to  renew  the  fellowship  of  kindred ! The 
family  on  earth  may  become  the  whole  family  in 
heaven!  Though  scattered  over  the  face  of  the 
earth,  and  dying  in  different  lands,  its  members  may 

(375) 


376 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


meet  again  to  renew  their  intercourse  on  Mount 
Zion  above,  where 

“ Those  long  parted  meet  again.” 

They  who  have  sat  at  the  same  table  may  sit 
together  at  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb.  They 
who  have  bowed  at  the  same  family  altar  \^dth  Ihe 
beginning  and  close  of  day  may  unite  their  devo- 
tions before  the  “ great  white  throne.”  They  who 
have  walked  in  company  to  the  earthly  temple  of 
God  may  sit  together  in  the  “ temple  not  made 
with  hands.”  They  who  have  loved  in  the  earthly 
mansion,  than  which  no  other  spot  is  dearer,  may  re- 
joice together  in  a “ mansion  in  the  skies.” 

“ In  my  father’s  house  are  many  mansions ; if  it 
were  not  so,  I would  have  told  you,  I go  to  prepare 
a place  for  you.  And  if  I go  and  prepare  a place 
for  you,  I wiU  come  again  and  receive  you  to  my- 
self ; that  where  I am,  there  you  may  be  also.” 
Beautiful  and  precious  words  are  these  to  fall  upon 
the  heart  of  sorrow ! Here  the  thoughts  are  borne 
upward  to  the  “ many  mansions,”  where  the  heavenly 
family  commune  together,  after  the  sad  reverses  and 
separations  of  a trial-land,  in  the  sweeter,  purer, 
better  intercourse  of  an  eternal  home.  That  is  a 
precious  sentiment,  “ I go  to  prepare  a place  for  you.” 
The  figure  is  drawn  from  a company  of  travellers, 
one  of  whom  precedes  his  associates  to  provide  a 
place  for  their  entertainment  and  rest.  So  Christ 
has  gone  to  prepare  a residence  for  his  saints  in  their 
“ father’s  house.”  Here  they  have  “ no  continuing 
city.”  They  are  “ sojourners,”  “ strangers,”  “ pd- 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


377 


grims.”  They  seek  “ a better  country,”  — a perma- 
nent abode.  They  are  “ children  ” of  God,  absent 
upon  the  “journey  of  life.”  They  will  soon  reach 
their  “ father’s  house,”  — their  everlasting  home. 

Thus  the  Scriptures  describe  the  future  abode  of 
the  saints  by  allusion  to  an  earthly  home,  — that  re- 
treat of  loving  hearts,  where  social  endearments  exist 
even  in  the  face  of  poverty  and  wo,  — that  garden 
of  delight,  where  hopes  and  loves  expand  in  the  sun- 
shine of  a parent’s  smile.  As  this  home  residence 
commands  the  affections  wherever  man  sojourns,  so 
does  the  Christian’s  view  of  heaven  allure  his  heart. 
In  his  wearisome  pilgrimage  it  rises  before  him  as 
the  consummation  of  his  hopes,  and  he  anticipates  a 
welcome  from  its  family  of  kindred  spirits,  and  joy  in 
a father’s  smile.  My  theme  is  that  the  whole  family 
may  be  gathered  there,  known  and  loved  by  each 
other. 

The  first  part  of  this  proposition,  — the  whole 
family  may  be  gathered  in  heaven,  — demands  no 
proof.  It  is  the  universal  sentiment  of  aU  believers 
in  the  Christian  religion.  It  is  presented  simply  as 
a delightful  view  of  the  abode  of  the  sainted  dead, 
— that  which  magnifies  the  sacredness  and  loveliness 
of  the  family  relation.  The  latter  part,  — that  they 
will  be  known  and  loved  by  each  other,  — admits  of 
discussion ; and  yet,  unless  this  latter  portion  is  true, 
the  particular  pleasure  which  the  former  doctrine  is 
calculated  to  impart  is  wholly  sacrificed.  It  will  be 
joy  exceeding  great  to  know  that  our  friends  are  safe 
in  glory,  even  though  we  may  not  recognize  them. 
But  how  much  greater  that  joy,  if  we  are  able  to 
identify  them  amid  the  countless  throng.  This  is 
32* 


378 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIEESIDE. 


the  basis  of  the  pleasing  view  of  heaven  which  we 
shall  attempt  to  unfold.  Will  kindred  recognize  each 
other  there  ? It  is  the  first,  yea  the  only  question  to 
be  answered,  in  order  to  establish  that  alluring  view 
of  heaven  which  is  dear  to  the  Christian  heart. 
Heaven  will  be  far  more  blissful,  if  the  whole  family, 
admitted  there,  are  known  to  each  other. 

A proof  of  heavenly  recognition  is  found  in  the 
fact,  that  it  appears  to  be  the  universal  sentiment  of 
mankind.  It  is  not  the  belief  of  a single  sect.  It 
belongs  not  to  a single  age.  It  is  not  the  dogma  of 
a particular  school.  Men  of  aU  creeds  and  of  no 
creed,  of  all  sects  and  of  no  sect,  of  true  piety  and 
no  piety,  alike  believe  and  defend  this  doctrine. 
Even  the  benighted  pagan,  far  off  in  some  dark 
corner  of  the  earth,  believes  in  a bright  elysium, 
where  he  will  be  reunited  to  his  departed  kindred. 
He  makes  the  blissful  land  the  abode  of  all  that  can 
delight  the  senses  and  captivate  the  heart,  in  order 
to  heighten  the  conception  of  friendships  there  re- 
newed. The  fields  teem  with  buds  and  blossoms 
of  unearthly  beauty.  The  valleys  sparkle  with  crys- 
tal streams,  and  the  hiUs  wave  with  forests  more 
beautiful  than  the  firs  of  Senei.  The  skies  are  pure 
and  cloudless ; and  the  air  is  loaded  with  delicious 
odors,  and  is  vocal  with  the  sweet  songs  of  the 
blessed.  Fit,  though  imaginary  abode,  in  which 
to  renew  the  ties  of  kindred ! 

The  wild  Indians  of  our  Western  forests  believe, 
that  far  away  beyond  the  mountains  “there  is  a 
wide  river;  beyond  that  river  a great  coimtry;  on 
the  other  side  of  that  country  a world  of  water ; in 
that  water  are  a thousand  islands,  full  of  trees  and 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


379 


streams  of  water,  and  that  a thousand  buiFaloes  and 
ten  thousand  deer  graze  on  the  hills,  and  ruminate 
in  the  valleys.  When  they  die,  they  are  persuaded 
that  the  Great  Spirit  will  conduct  them  to  this  “ land 
of  souls,”  to  renew  the  relations  which  existed  be- 
tween them  on  their  hunting-grounds.  We  are  told, 
that  over  the  grave  of  friends  they  will  load  a certain 
bird  with  caresses,  and  then  let  it  fly  away  to  bear 
them  to  the  departed  in  the  spirit-land. 

The  same  sentiment  is  found  among  the  ancients. 
Socrates  said,  in  view  of  death,  “ if  the  common  ex- 
pression be  true,  that  death  conveys  us  to  those  re- 
gions w'^hich  are  inhabited  by  the  spirits  of  departed 
men,  will  it  not  be  unspeakably  happy  to  escape 
from  the  hands  of  mere  nominal  judges,  to  appear 
before  those  who  truly  deserve  the  name,  such  as 
Ninus  and  Rhadamanthus,  and  to  associate  with  all 
who  have  maintained  the  cause  of  truth  and  recti- 
tude ? Is  it  possible  for  you  to  look  upon  this  as  an 
unimportant  journey  ? Is  it  nothing  to  converse 
with  Orpheus,  and  Homer,  and  Hesiod?  Believe 
me,  I would  cheerfully  suffer  many  a death  on  the 
condition  of  realizing  such  a privilege.” 

Cicero,  in  langTiage  too  good  to  proceed  from-  a 
pagan  heart,  exclaimed,  “ O,  glorious  day ! when  I 
shall  retire  from  this  low  and  sordid  scene  to  asso- 
ciate with  the  divine  assembly  of  departed  sph'its ; 
and  not  mth  those  only  whom  I have  just  now 
mentioned,  but  with  my  dear  Cato,  that  best  of 
sons  and  most  valuable  of  men ! It  was  my  sad 
fate  to  lay  his  body  on  the  funeral  pile,  when  by  the 
course  of  nature  I had  reason  to  hope  he  would  per- 


380 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


form  the  same  last  office  to  mine.  His  soul,  how- 
ever, did  not  desert  me,  but  stdl  looked  back  on  me 
in  its  ffight  to  those  happy  mansions,  to  which  he 
was  assured  I should  one  day  follow  him.  If  I 
seemed  to  bear  his  death  with  fortitude,  it  was  by 
no  means  that  I did  not  most  sensibly  feel  the  loss  I 
had  sustained;  it  was  because  I supported  myself 
with  the  consoling  reflection,  that  we  could  not  long 
be  separated.” 

“ It  is  said,”  says  Dr.  Leland,  “ to  be  a custom  in 
Guinea,  that  when  a king  dies  many  are  slain,  and 
their  bloody  carcasses  buried  with  him,  that  they 
may  again  live  wdth  him  in  another  world.  It  was 
formerly  a weU-known  custom  in  the  East  Indies 
for  women  to  kill  themselves  after  the  death  of  their 
husbands,  that  they  might  accompany  them  in  the 
next  life.” 

We  are  told,  that  among  the  ancients  it  was  not 
unusual  for  persons  on  the  death  of  their  friends  to 
commit  suicide,  in  order  to  enjoy  their  society  in  a 
better  land. 

It  is  doubtless  with  a view  to  a blissful  reunion 
with  their  departed  husbands,  that,  in  modern  days, 
so  many  wives  in  pagan  lands  have  immolated 
themselves  on  the  funeral  pile. 

Dr.  Neander  informs  us,  that  it  was  a custom  with 
the  early  Christian  church  to  celebrate  the  remem- 
brance of  their  deceased  friends  on  the  anniversary 
of  their  death.  “ The  supper  of  the  Lord  was  cele- 
brated on  this  day,  in  the  consciousness  of  an  in- 
separable communion  -with  those  who  died  in  the 
Lord ; a gift  was  brought  to  the  altar  in  their  name, 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


381 


as  if  they  were  still  living  members  of  the  church ; 
and  it  was  hence,  probably,  that  the  prayer  for  peace 
to  the  souls  of  the  departed  was  interwoven  with 
the  prayer  of  the  church,  preceding  the  communion.” 
The  basis  of  this  ceremony  was,  evidently,  the  belief 
in  heavenly  recognition. 

It  is  supposed  that  the  ancient  custom  (continued 
in  a limited  degree  to  the  present  time)  of  connect- 
ing the  burial-ground  with  the  house  of  worship  had 
its  origin  in  this  sentiment  of  the  recognition  of 
friends  in  glory.  The  living  and  the  dead  are  thus 
brought  together  at  the  very  altar  of  their  religion,  as 
if  in  token  of  an  immortal  union  in  Christ.  It  seems 
to  signify  that  their  fellowship,  in  its  social  aspects, 
win  continue  hereafter. 

The  same  sentiment  equally  prevails  at  present. 
It  pervades  many  of  our  sweetest  spiritual  songs.  It 
is  the  soul  of  the  richest  consolations  that  can  be 
imparted  in  this  world  of  sorrow.  It  is  set  to  some 
of  our  most  popular  music.  It  is  uttered  alike  in 
lordly  palace  and  humble  cot.  It  is  recorded  on  the 
tombstone.  It  is  interwoven  with  the  doctrines  pro- 
claimed from  the  pulpit.  It  appears  in  the  ejacula- 
tions of  bereaved  friends.  It  lingers  upon  the  lips 
of  the  dying  friend  as  a part  of  the  last,  sweet  solace 
to  his  mortal  agony. 

A few  days  since  I visited  a burial-place,  in  order 
to  trace  this  sentiment  upon  the  monumental  stones. 
I found  it  to  be  the  one,  prevailing  sentiment,  as  if 
it  were  originated  solely  for  “ God’s  Acre.”  It  was 
recorded  on  the  stone  that  marked  the  resting-place 
of  the  child  and  the  aged  man.  It  was  inscribed 


382 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


over  the  remains  of  early  manhood  and  youthful 
beauty.  On  one  I read  : — 

“We  loved  thee  on  earth, 

May  we  meet  thee  in  heaven.” 

On  another, 

“ Dark  howe’er  life’s  night  may  be, 

Beyond  the  grave  I ’ll  meet  with  thee.” 

On  another, 

“ We  all  may  hope  to  meet  again 
In  yonder  peaceful  heaven.” 

On  another, 

“But  a fair  maiden  in  her  Father’s  mansion. 

Clothed  with  celestial  grace ; 

And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul’s  expansion 
Shall  we  behold  her  face.” 

On  another, 

“ Through  him  we  trust  to  meet  again.” 

On  the  infant’s  tombstone  I read, 

“ Precious  babe,  thy  sister  greets  thee 
In  the  realms  of  peace  above ; 

May  we  all  in  heaven  meet  thee. 

To  sing  aloud  redeeming  love.” 

Kindred  sentiments  on  the  stones  of  that  ancient 
burial-place  were  numerous  enough  to  have  filled  a 
volume. 

I have  heard  this  sentiment  expressed  by  the  dying. 
What  minister  of  Christ  has  not  ? Not  long  since. 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


383 


on  a Sabbath  evening,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  I 
was  called  to  see  one  die,  — a husband,  father,  firiend, 
parishioner.  The  cold  sweat  of  death  stood  upon 
his  brow.  His  pulse  was  almost  stUl,  and  his  heart 
motionless.  The  soul  was  evidently  bursting  away 
from  its  fleshly  tabernacle.  The  last  sands  were 
escaping  from  life’s  hour-glass.  With  an  effort  he 
opened  his  glassy  eyes,  in  his  cold,  thin  hand  pressed 
mine,  and  whispered  a sentence  about  this  doctrine 
of  heavenly  recognition.  He  had  a little  daughter 
in  the  better  land,  the  only  one  of  the  household  who 
had  “ gone  before,”  and  now  the  ascending  spirit 
rejoiced  in  anticipation  of  the  bhssful  meeting.  The 
blessed  truth  brought  a troop  of  ministering  angels 
to  buoy  up  the  soul  above  the  billows  of  death.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  sacred  sentiment  was  revealed 
solely  for  its  fitness  to  satisfy  a longing  desire  of  the 
regenerated  soul. 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  truth  under  consideration 
is  congenial  to  human  nature,  and  is  the  universal 
sentiment  of  mankind.  There  is  no  country,  how- 
ever remote,  no  age,  however  dark,  no  race  of  men, 
however  good  or  bad ; no  kindred,  tribe,  or  people, 
where  it  is  not  found.  In  this  there  is  evidence  that 
the  sentiment  is  true.  It  shows  that  God  has  im- 
planted in  our  hearts  a moral  want,  which  this  doc- 
trine satisfies.  It  is  difficult  to  find  a sentiment  thus 
common  to  mankind  which  is  untrue.  Hence  we 
assert  that  this  proves  the  doctrine  of  heavenly  rec- 
ognition true,  just  as  we  rest  the  highest  proof  of  the 
existence  of  God  upon  the  universal  consciousness 
of  mankind.  Because  the  human  race  are  conscious 
of  a Divine  existence,  therefore,  theologians  argue, 


384 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


God  must  exist.  He  has  implanted  this  conscious- 
ness within  them,  in  order  to  lead  them  to  embrace 
the  truth  of  Eds  existence.  The  universality  of  the 
sentiment  of  heavenly  recognition  furnishes  equal 
evidence  of  its  truth. 

Another  source  of  proof  is  the  existence  of  the 
memory  in  the  future  state.  That  disembodied 
spirits  remember  earthly  scenes  in  eternity  is  evident 
from  the  case  of  the  rich  man,  to  whom  the  solemn 
declaration  is  made,  “ Son,  remember  that  thou,  in 
thy  lifetime,  receivedst  thy  good  things.”  If  “ the 
lost  ” retain  this  faculty,  then  are  we  compelled  to 
believe,  by  still  weightier  reasons,  that  it  is  not  lost 
to  “the  saved.” 

Intellectual  philosophers  agree  in  the  sentiment, 
that  the  memory  never  loses  a particle  of  knowledge. 
All  that  a man  ever  learned,  or  experienced,  is  the 
mind’s  property  forever.  It  cannot  be  forgotten  or 
obliterated.  The  very  effort  to  forget,  wites  it  more 
indelibly  upon  the  memory.  Impressions  may  be 
lost  to  us  for  the  present,  and  seem  as  though  they 
were  not,  but  they  are  only  veiled.  God  will  re- 
move that  veil  hereafter,  and  bring  to  hght  every  idle 
word  and  secret  thought.  Dr.  Cheever,  speaking  of 
this  power  of  the  memory,  has  expressed  the  senti- 
ment of  mental  philosophers  in  the  following  lan- 
guage, which  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of  a proba- 
tioner : “ All  things  that  I have  ever  seen,  heard, 
read,  known,  thought,  felt,  experienced,  in  any  way; 
all  processes  of  reasoning,  sensibility,  volition ; aU 
modes  in  which  I have  either  acted  upon  others,  or 
been  acted  upon,  with  all  the  minutest  details  of 
self-consciousness,  though  they  may  have  passed  hke 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


385 


the  lightning,  I can  revisit.  All  that  ever  has  been 
mine  is  still  within  my  power,  and  may  belong  to  me 
forever,  through  the  working  of  this  mighty,  inde- 
structible element  of  my  immortal  being.” 

If  the  memory  thus  exists  in  the  futm'e  state,  it 
would  foUow  as  a natural  consequence,  and  could 
not  possibly  be  otherwise,  that  friends  will  remember 
and  recognize  each  other. 

Another  source  of  evidence  to  the  truth  of  the 
doctrine  of  heavenly  recognition  is  found  in  the  fact 
that  we  shall  not  know  less  in  heaven  than  we  know 
on  earth.  On  the  other  hand,  our  knowledge  will  be 
greatly  increased.  All  the  faculties  will  continue  to 
exist,  and  develop  themselves  in  ceaseless  expansion. 
The  mind  is  immortal  in  all  its  powers,  separate  or 
united.  Hence  every  power  will  continue  to  im- 
prove, becoming  the  possessor  of  constantly  increas- 
ing knowledge.  Instead  of  losing  our  acquisitions, 
we  shall  be  perpetually  adding  to  them.  While  we 
shall  forever  acquire,  we  shall  not  lose  what  we  have 
already  attained.  “ Our  present  knowledge,  so  far 
as  is  consistent  with  the  Divine  wiU  and  wisdom, 
will  not  be  destroyed,  but  taken  up  and  included  in 
our  future  knowledge.  It  is  not  reasonable  to  be- 
lieve, that  the  attainments  we  have  made  in  this  life 
should  give  us  no  advantage  in  the  beginning  of  the 
life  to  come.  This  would  make  aU  om’  earthly  ac- 
quisitions of  no  avail,  and  therefore  needless.”  It 
follows,  then,  that  friends  will  recognize  each  other 
in  heaven,  since  if  they  do  not,  in  respect  to  earthly 
attainments,  they  will  know  less  in  heaven  than  they 
do  on  earth. 

The  doctrine  of  heavenly  recognition  is  also  sus- 

33 


386 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


tained  by  the  social  principle  implanted  in  the  hu- 
man heart.  Man  is  made  for  society,  as  the  aspira- 
tions and  desires  of  his  heart  clearly  evince.  He 
possesses  affections*  and  sympathies,  and  cherishes 
hopes  and  desires,  which  find  their  congenial  sphere 
of  exercise  only  in  social  intercourse.  These  consti- 
tute the  better  and  most  winning  part  of  humanity. 
If  death  obliterates  them,  it  destroys  the  most  lovely 
part  of  our  nature,  — a sentiment  which  finds  no  re- 
sponse in  our  hearts.  If  they  survive  the  dissolution 
of  soul  and  body,  and  live  in  heaven,  they  must 
have  their  app-ropriate  objects  to  act  upon ; otherndse 
they  become  instruments  of  endless  miserjv  To 
possess  this  social  principle,  and  yet  be  introduced 
into  a relation  where  it  is  not  allowed  full  play,  is  to 
doom  manldnd  to  disappointment  and  unhappiness. 
But  it  is  not  so.  K we  love  here,  we  shall  love 
more  there.  If  we  have  sympathy  here,  we  shall 
have  more  there.  AU  the  sweet  charities  which  bind 
us  here  must  exist  there.  The  affections,  sympathies, 
and  aU  that  belong  to  our  common  nature,  will  be 
absorbed  in  the  redeemed  man,  — not  destroyed,  but 
purified  and  sanctified,  thus  undergoing  no  change 
except  the  transition  from  imperfection  to  perfection. 
Out  of  this  existence  of  the  social  principle  in  heaven, 
the  doctrine  under  consideration  naturally  grows. 

All  the  allusions  of  the  Saviour  to  the  future 
abode  of  the  saints  imply,  that  the  social  affinities 
will  there  be  known  as  in  the  intercom-se  of  human 
life.  Whenever  he  alludes  to  heaven  as  the  home  of 
his  people,  though  incidentally,  it  is  in  language 
which  implies  a communion  of  hearts  like  that 
which  friends  enjoy  on  earth,  only  made  perfect. 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


387 


These  incidental  allusions  enforce  the  above  dictates 
of  reason  respecting  the  social  principle,  as  the  basis 
of  the  doctrine  of  heavenly  recognition. 

The  Scriptures  contain  not  only  intimations  of, 
and  incidental  allusions  to,  this  doctrine ; but  also 
lessons  of  a more  positive  character.  The  teaching, 
“ then  shall  I know  even  as  also  I am  known,”  is  lit- 
erally sustained.  Expressions  are  used,  and  declara- 
tions are  made,  which  are  devoid  of  meaning,  unless 
sainted  friends  recognize  each  other  in  glory. 

When  the  death  of  the  Old  Testament  saints  is 
the  subject  of  remark,  certain  phrases  are  employed 
which  are  apt  and  beautiful  only  in  the  light  of  this 
truth.  Thus,  when  Abraham  died,  he  was  said  to  be 
“ gathered  unto  his  people,''  and  the  same  was  said 
of  Isaac  and  Jacob.  The  best  authorities  believe 
that  this  phrase  denotes  “ his  people,”  in  distinction 
from  all  other  people  numbered  with  the  gi-eat  con- 
gregation of  the  dead,  since  this  alone  renders  the 
use  of  the  term  “his”  consistent  and  pointed. 
There  were  those  among  his  people  who  had  gone 
to  the  spu'it-land,  where 

“ The  loved  and  parted  here  below 
Meet,  ne’er  to  part  again  ; ” 

and  he  was  gathered  to  them  in  the  bonds  of  an 
eternal  reunion. 

Also  the  phrase,  “ gathered  to  their  fathers,”  is 
supposed  to  refer  to  the  kindred  of  those  concerning 
whom  the  sentiment  is  uttered,  in  distinction  from 
all  other  kindred.  They  are  words  suited  to  awaken 
in  the  mind  a recollection  of  former  relations  to  dear 


388 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


Mends,  now  rejoicing  in  the  “better  country.”  They 
array  before  us  the  members  of  our  earthly  circles 
who  have  “ rested  from  their  labors,”  as  still  a part  of 
our  number,  waiting  for  us  to  join  them  in  the  New 
Jerusalem. 

The  Saviour  presents  the  communion  of  saints  in 
heaven  under  the  figure  of  a feast.  “ I say  unto  you, 
that  many  shall  come  from  the  east  and  west,  and 
shall  sit  down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.”  The  only  view  of  this 
passage  which  makes  it  at  aU  intelligible  is  the  one 
favoring  the  doctrine  under  discussion.  These  three 
ancient  worthies  are  represented  as  associating  in 
heaven  in  the  manner  friends  associate  on  festive  oc- 
casions here  below.  Mrdtitudes  are  described  as 
coming  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth  to  sit 
down  with  them  in  the  enjoyment  of  these  celestial 
festivities.  There  is  no  particular  point  or  force  in 
the  figure  unless  we  admit  the  doctrine  of  the  recog- 
nition of  friends  in  heaven,  as  it  really  appears  at 
earthly  festivals. 

David  bmied  a child,  — an  affliction  which  be- 
reaved parents  alone  can  appreciate.  He  found, 
doubtless,  a great  consolation  in  the  righteous  gov- 
ernment of  God;  but  how  much  satisfaction  he 
evidently  derived  from  the  reflection,  “ I shall  go  to 
him  ! ” These  words  mean  nothing,  unless  they  ex- 
pressed his  full  conviction  that  he  should  one  day 
meet  his  child,  known  and  loved.  Reader,  have  you 
wept  over  the  remains  of  a stricken  babe  ? Is  one 
lamb  missing  from  your  precious  flock  ? AYhat  joy- 
ous anticipations  are  awakened  in  your  breast  as 
you  read,  “ I shall  go  to  him  ! ” Do  not  these  words 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


389 


encourage  you  to  expect,  that,  though  separated 
from  your  child  on  earth,  you  will  “ be  linked  to  him 
in  the  skies  ? ” 

The  gi’eat  apostle  wrote  to  ’ the  Thessalonians, 
“ For  what  is  our  hope  or  joy,  or  crown  of  rejoicing? 
Axe  not  even  ye  in  the  presence  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  at  his  coming?  For  ye  are  our  glory  and 
crown,”  He  had  been  the  instrument  of  their  con- 
version, in  company  with  his  colaborers ; and  he 
teaches  in  these  words  that  he  will  meet  them  in 
another  world  as  his  “crown”  and  “joy.”  He  will 
rejoice  to  see  them  there.  This  implies  that  he  will 
distinguish  them  from  the  throng  “ which  no  man 
can  number.”  Macknight  says  of  this  passage, 
“ The  manner  in  which  the  apostle  speaks  of  the 
Thessalonians  shows  that  he  expected  to  know  his 
converts  at  the  day  of  judgment.  If  so,  we  may 
hope  to  know  our  relations  and  friends  there.” 

In  Revelation  one  of  the  elders  is  represented  as 
asking,  “ What  are  these  which  are  arrayed  in  white 
robes,  and  whence  came  they  ? ” The  interrogation 
in  respect  to  who  they  were  imphes  that  they  might 
be  known,  and  be  made  acquainted  with  each  other. 

Why  should  the  elder  ask,  “ What  (or  who)  are 
these  ? ” unless  he  supposed  that  he  might  know  ? 

Tlie  language  which  Christ  addressed  to  Martha 
at  the  grave  of  Lazarus  is  still  more  explicit  upon 
this  theme,  “ Thy  brother  shall  live  again.”  It  does 
not  mean  simply  that  he  should  rise  in  the  resur- 
rection ; for  this  Martha  already  believed.  It  was  a 
truth  designed  for  consolation  in  that  hour  of  sorrow. 
Her  brother  was  dead.  No  more  did  she  expect  to 
behold  his  face,  or  hear  his  voice  on  earth.  No  more 
33* 


390 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


in  life’s  devious  paths  did  she  hope  to  walk  with  the 
departed.  In  such  circumstances,  what  meaning  is 
more  naturally  derived  from  the  words,  “ thy  brother 
shah  hve  again,”  than  the  following  ? He  shah  live 
again  to  you,  — a brother  recognized  and  owned. 
He  shall  live  in  the  exercise  of  aU  his  brotherly  affec- 
tions in  that  world  of  hght  which  you  expect  to 
enter.  Murmur  not  over  your  present  loss  ; your 
separation  is  only  for  a brief  season.  These  ties 
will  be  renewed  in  a world  where  death  and  partings 
are  unknown.  Fit  words  of  comfort  to  \\dpe  the 
tears  from  sorrow’s  eye  ! 

“ There  is  a world  above, 

Where  parting  is  unknown  ; 

A long  eternity  oflove, 

Found  for  the  good  alone  ; 

And  faith  beholds  the  dying  here, 

Translated  to  that  glorious  sphere.” 

That  the  doctrine  of  heavenly  recognition  has  been 
believed  generally  by  theologians  will  appear  from 
the  following  quotations  : — 

Paley  says,  speaking  of  Col.  1 : 28,  “ If  this  be 
rightly  interpreted,  then  it  affords  the  manifest  and 
necessary  inference,  that  the  saints  in  a future  life 
will  meet  and  be  known  to  one  another ; for  how, 
without  knowing  again  his  converts  in  their  new 
and  glorious  state,  could  St.  Paul  desue  or  expect  to 
present  them  at  the  last  day  ? ” 

Dick  WHote : “ It  has  been  asked  whether,  in  the 
blessed  abode,  the  saints  wall  know  one  another. 
One  should  thmk  that  the  question  w^as  unnecessary, 
as  the  answer  naturally  presents  itself  to  every  man’s 
mind ; and  it  only  could  have  occurred  to  some 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


391 


dreaming  theologian,  who,  in  his  airy  speculations, 
has  soared  far  beyond  the  sphere  of  reason  and 
common  sense.  Who  can  doubt  whether  the  saints 
will  know  one  another  ? What  reason  can  be  given 
why  they  should  not  ? Would  it  be  any  part  of 
their  perfection  to  have  aU  -their  former  ideas  oblit- 
erated, and  to  meet  as  strangers  in  the  other  world  ? ” 

Nevin  said : “ That  the  saints  in  glory  shall  con- 
tinue to  know  those  whom  they  have  known  and 
loved  on  earth,  seems  to  me  to  flow  necessarily  from 
the  idea  of  their  immortality  itself ; for  this  cannot 
be  real,  except  as  it  includes  personal  identity,  or  a 
continuation  of  the  same  consciousness.” 

Bishop  HaU  thus  spoke : “ Thou  hast  lost  a.  friend ; 
say  rather  thou  hast  parted  with  him.  That  is 
properly  lost  which  is  past  aU  recovery,  which  we  are 
out  of  hope  to  see  any  more.  It  is  not  so  with  this 
friend  thou  mournest  for;  he  is  but  gone  home  a 
little  before  thee : thou  art  following  him ; you  two 
shall  meet  in  your  father’s  house,  and  enjoy  each 
other  more  happily  than  you  could  have  done  here 
below.” 

Baxter  thus  expressed  himself : “ I now  delight  to 
converse  with  my  pious  friends,  in  a firm  persuasion 
that  I shall  converse  with  them  forever ; and  I take 
comfort  in  those  of  them  that  are  dead  or  absent,  as 
believing  that  I shall  shortly  meet  them  in  heaven, 
and  love  them  with  a heavenly  love  that  shall  then 
be  perfected.” 

Doddridge  said : “ Let  me  be  thankful  for  the 
pleasing  hope  that,  though  God  loves  my  child  too 
well  to  permit  it  to  return  to  me,  he  will  erelong 
bring  me  to  it.  And  then  that  endeared  paternal 


392 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 


affection,  which  would  have  been  a cord  to  tie  me 
to  earth  and  have  added  new  pangs  to  my  removal 
from  it,  will  be  as  a golden  chain  to  draw  me  up- 
wards, and  add  one  further  charm  and  joy  to  para- 
dise itself,  ....  It  is  for  no  language  but  that  of 
heaven  to  describe  the  sacred  joy  which  such  a meet- 
ing must  occasion.” 

Chalmers  wrote  concerning  the  death  of  a cliild : 
“ The  blossom  which  withered  here  upon  its  stalk 
has  been  transplanted  there  to  a plaee  of  endurance ; 
and  it  will  then  gladden  that  eye  which  now  weeps 
out  the  agony  of  an  affection  that  has  been  sorely 
wounded  ; and,  in  the  name  of  Him  who  if  on  earth 
would  have  wept  along  with  them,  do  we  bid  aU  be- 
lievers present  to  sorrow  not,  even  as  others  which  have 
no  hope ; but  to  take  comfort  in  the  hope  of  that 
country  where  there  is  no  sorrow  and  no  separation.” 

Edwards  said : “ The  father  shall  know  that  such 
a one  was  his  child ; the  husband  shall  remember 
that  such  a one  was  his  wife ; the  spiritual  guide 
shall  know  that  such  belonged  to  his  flock ; and  so 
all  other  relations  of  persons  shall  be  renewed  and 
known  in  heaven.” 

From  a sermon  of  Dwight  upon  the  Happiness  of 
Heaven,  I extract  the  following : “ Husbands  and 

wives,  here  mutually  and  singularly  beloved,  will 
there  be  united,  not  indeed  in  their  former  earthly 
relations,  but  in  a friendship  far  more  delightful,  and, 
wafted  onward  by  the  stream  of  ages  without  a sigh, 
without  a fear,  will  become  in  each  other’s  eyes 
more  and  more  excellent,  amiable,  and  endeared 
forever.” 

Emmons  thus  wu'ote : “ All  pious  brothers  and  sis- 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


393 


ters,  all  pious  parents  and  children,  all  pious  husbands 
and  wives,  all  pious  friends  and  all  pious  ministers, 
and  then:  pious  hearers,  wiU  be  forever  known  to  each 
other  and  intimately  connected  in  heaven,  and  mutu- 
ally promote  each  other’s  felicity All  Chris- 

tians in  every  part  of  the  world,  who  are  now  ahve, 
will  very  soon  meet  together  with  their  departed 
friends  in  heaven,  and  their  meeting  in  that  holy 
and  happy  place  must  fill  their  hearts  with  mutual 
joy,  and  remove  all  the  pains  and  sorrows  of  their 
former  parting.” 

Quotations  of  a similar  character  might  be  multi- 
plied indefinitely ; but  the  above  wiU  serve  to  illus- 
trate to  what  extent  the  belief  in  this  doctrine  ob- 
tains. The  difficulty  is  not  in  finding  theologians 
who  believe  as  above,  but  in  finding  those  who  do 
not  thus  believe. 

It  is  objected  to  this  doctrine,  that  Christ  himself 
will  absorb  the  affections,  interest,  and  time,  in 
heaven,  and  that  it  is  a disparagement  to  him  to 
believe  that  the  sainted  throng  will  be  interested  in 
each  other.  That  Christ  will  be  the  centre  of  all 
love  and  attraction  with  the  ransomed,  “ the  chief 
among  ten  thousand,”  and  the  oiie  “ altogether  love- 
ly,” is  readily  admitted.  That  it  will  be  heaven 
enough  to  dwelt  where  the  Saviour  is,  and  that 
saints  will  desire  to  “ see  his  face  ” first  of  all,  is 
not  denied.  But,  that  his  superior  interest  in  Christ 
precludes  the  possibility  of  such  interest  in  kindred 
as  has  been  described,  is  untrue.  As  well  might  we 
contend  that  the  love  of  Christ  on  earth  hinders  our 
love  of  kindred,  when  facts  prove  it  the  reverse.  The 
more  we  love  Christ,  the  more  we  love  om*  friends. 


394 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE, 


There  is  many  a reckless  prodigal,  returned  to  his 
father’s  house  to  re-love  his  kindred,  because  he  has 
learned  to  love  Clirist.  The  love  of  Christ  destroys 
no  affection  between  friend  and  friend  ; but  elevates 
and  purifies  it,  — makes  it  stronger,  more  abiding, 
and  holier.  Why  will  it  not  be  thus  in  heaven  ? 
Rather  will  not  the  ties  of  kindred  there  be  more 
complete,  because  of  the  augmented  love  of  Christ? 
The  Scriptures  declare  that  we  love  the  children  of 
God,  when  we  love  God,  and  command  “ that  he 
who  loveth  God,  love  his  brother  also.”  Hence  the 
gi'eat  love  of  Christ,  that  wffl  fill  the  hearts  of  the 
glorified  above,  becomes  an  additional  reason  for 
believing  that  the  social  ties  of  sanctified  humanity 
will  exist  there. 

We  have  now  presented  some  of  the  reasons  for 
believing  that  Christian  ffiends  will  recognize  each 
other  in  the  “ many  mansions.”  There  are  many 
natural  and  moral  truths,  which  men  receive  upon 
far  less  evidence  than  that  which  supports  the  doc- 
trine under  consideration.  We  have  seen  that  the 
doctrine  is  sustained  by  the  general  desire  and  be- 
lief of  mankind,  by  the  existence  of  the  remembering 
faculty,  by  the  increasing  knowledge  of  the  mind,  by 
the  principle  of  sociality  implanted  in  the  human 
heart,  and  by  the  unerring  Word  of  God.  Upon 
this  we  are  willing  to  rest  our  belief  in  the  doc- 
trine, and  fondly  cherish  the  hopes  and  desires  which 
it  awakens.  We  hail  it  as  a Godsend  in  this 
world  of  broken  ties,  worthy  of  a place  in  the  for- 
mulary of  the  Christian  faith,  and  glorifying  to  its 
Divine  Author. 

Here,  then,  we  base  our  plea  for  The  whole  Fam- 


THE  WHOLE  FAMtLY  IH  HEAVEN. 


395 


ily  ill  Heaven.  It  surrounds  the  heavenly  abode 
of  the  saints  with  sweeter  attractions  to  feel  that, 
in  addition  to  the  joy  of  beholding  Christ,  we  may 
also  meet  father  and  mother,  husband  and  wife,  son 
and  daughter,  brother  and  sister,  never  to  be  parted 
more. 

“ Oh  happy  world  ! Oh  glorious  place  ! 

Where  all  who  are  forgiven, 

Shall  find  their  loved  and  lost  below, 

And  hearts  like  meeting  streams,  shall  flow 
Forever  one  in  heaven.” 

Eternal  home  of  the  Christian  family  ! How  beau- 
tiful is  our  holy  religion,  when  it  hallows  the  various 
relations  of  the  household,  and  finally  brings  its 
members  from  the  divergent  paths  of  life  to  their 
“ Father’s  house,”  a joyous,  unbroken  band ! “ There,” 
as  another  has  said,  “ the  mother  again  clasps  her 
beautiful  babes  to  her  bosom,  all  resplendent  in  the 
glory  of  that  Saviour  who  carried  them  in  his  arms 
thither.  There,  she  who  was  the  solitary  widow, 
and  who  for  a long  time  had  to  tread  the  melancholy 
path  of  immaculate  sorrow  for  the  husband  of  her 
heart,  and  who,  perhaps,  had  to  accept  of  life’s  cold- 
est conditions  to  secure  for  herself  and  orphans  a 
piece  of  bread,  — there,  she  finds  the  desire  of  her 
eyes  ; and,  in  garments  of  white,  they  together  walk 
the  streets  of  the  heavenly  city.  There,  the  orphan, 
the  poor,  shivering,  timid  orphan,  who  stood  over  a 
father’s  and  a mother’s  grave  ere  she  knew  or  could 
appreciate  such  a loss,  and  who  struggled  on  unbe- 
friended through  the  battles  and  breezes  of  this  selfish 
world,  at  length  beholds  and  luxuriates  in  parental 
love.  There  the  kind  friends,  the  choice  benefac- 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIRESIDE. 

tt)rs,  to  whom  we  have  been  indebted  during  our  pil- 
gi'iin  passage  for  many  comforts  and  precious  aids, 
and  whose  departure  from  us  to  the  world  of  spuits 
has  made  earth  more  gloomy  and  life  less  joyous, 
shall  again  be  met  and  again  enjoyed.  In  a word, 
all  the  blessed  dead  who  have  died  in  the  Lord  there 
meet  again,  and  meet  to  part  no  more.”  * 

What  consolation  is  here  for  the  bereaved  ! The 
separation  which  death  has  caused  between  Chris- 
tian friends  is  only  for  a transient  season.  The  trans- 
lation of  every  sainted  one  to  Canaan’s  shore  be- 
comes a cause  for  thanksgiving  ; for  they  are  safe ; — 
safe  from  the  power  of  sin,  safe  from  the  wiles  of  the 
arch-apostate,  safe  from  the  snares  and  temptations 
of  the  world.  A few  more  years  will  pass  away 
swiftly  as  flies  the  weaver’s  shuttle,  a few  more 
moons  wiU  hght  the  path  of  night,  a few  more  suns 
will  rise  and  set,  when  the  “ loved  and  parted  ” will 
meet  again  in  that  temple  “whose  builder  and  maker 
is  God.”  Viewed  thus,  there  is  no  death  to  the  pure 
in  heart. 

“ They  arc  not  lost  — but  gone  before.” 

Death  is  only  a transition  state,  — a passage  from  a 
shadowy  to  a resplendent  world,  — a putting  off  the 
soiled  garments  of  mortality  for  the  unsullied  robes 
of  immortality.  Death  is  gain,  such  as  figures 
cannot  compute,  — an  exchange  of  life  mortal  for 
life  immortal. 

Such  a view  of  the  death  of  Christian  Mends  has 
poured  the  oil  of  joy  into  many  wounded  hearts.  It 


* McFarlane. 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


397 


has  dried  up  many  tears,  and  mitigated  many  of  the 
ills  and  sorrows  of  life.  It  has  shed  a softening  and 
elevating  influence  over  bereaved  circles  by  bringing 
them  into  a more  familiar  relation  to  the  world  of 
light.  Heaven  is  no  longer  a distant  and  indefinite 
state  or  condition ; it  is  the  alluring  abode  of  their 
sainted  friends.  Their  thoughts  are  often  there. 
Their  afflictions  are  lightened.  They  wait  with  pa- 
tience for  the  day  of  final  reunion. 

Here,  too,  is  found  a powerful  motive  to  piety ! 
An  eternal  separation  will  sever  the  impenitent  from 
their  sainted  friends.  Sin  cannot  enter  “ those  holy 
gates.”  There  is  no  communion,  in  all  those  glori- 
ous mansions,  for  holy  and  unholy  hearts.  It  is  a 
thought  which  ought  deeply  to  impress  the  unbeliev- 
ing members  of  families.  Ai-e  they  ready  to  meet 
the  dreadful  alternative  ? Can  they  endure  the 
thought  of  receiving  no  welcome  to  the  abode 
where  their  ransomed  kindred  are  ? Say,  unbeliev- 
ing parent,  if  the  love  of  Christ  cannot  constrain 
you,  will  you  not  serve  God  for  the  sake  of  meeting 
your  redeemed  child  ? And  ye  godless  children,  ye 
scoffing  partners,  ye  thoughtless  brothers  and  sisters, 
what  more  can  be  offered  to  persuade  you  to  seek 
Christ,  than  this  meeting  of  kindred  to  part  no  more  ? 
Thou  unconverted  mother,  weeping  your  very  heart 
away  over  the  dust  of  your  beautiful  babe,  and  yet 
not  preparing  to  meet  it  in  the  skies ! The  httle 
creature  has  joined  the  heavenly  choir,  and  is  now 
a harper ! Carest  thou  for  this  enough  to  strive  to 
enter  into  the  “ strait  gate  ? ” Thou  wast  proud 
of  its  beauty  on  earth  ; it  is  more  beautiful  in  heaven  ! 
Thou  delighted  to  hear  its  voice  below ; it  was  music 

34 


398 


LIFE  AT  THE  FIKESIDE. 


to  your  ears ; it  is  sweeter  above  than  the  richest 
tones  of  earthly  minstrelsy ! Hadst  thou  such  a 
child  in  a distant  land,  thou  wouldst  talk  about  it 
by  day,  and  di-eam  about  it  by  night ! Thou  wouldst 
gather  up  thy  treasures,  and  prepare  to  visit  the  far- 
off  clime,  though  it  peril  life  on  stormy  seas  and 
pestilential  shores!  How  much  more  inspiring  to 
hope  and  love,  when  that  land  is  heaven,  and  the 
child  an  heir  of  glory  ! 

Reader,  I have  done.  I have  penned  some  hints 
concerning  the  family  relation,  which  may  be  of  ser- 
vice in  your  efforts  to  form  a model  family  on  earth, 
as  the  germ  and  promise  of  an  unbroken  family  in 
heaven.  They  are  both  embraced  in  God’s  plan  of 
human  happiness  and  salvation.  They  are  the  twm 
parts  of  a beautiful  and  infinite  whole.  IMay  you  be 
enamored  with  the  peace  and  symmetry  of  the  one, 
and  aspire  after  the  joy  and  glory  of  the  other.  May 
you  be  allured  to  a brighter  world  by  the  communion 
that  obtains  between  sainted  friends  above.  May 
your  faith  fasten  upon  the  “ many  mansions,”  fitted 
up  for  the  abode  of  friends  and  kindred,  and  your 
heart  be  waxing  meet  to  fellowship  with  the  re- 
deemed ones  in  “ celestial  pastimes.”  May  heaven 
kindle  before  your  imagination  with  new  attractions, 
as  you  reflect  upon  the  “ Father’s  house,”  and  incite 
you  to  toil  and  pray  that  no  loved  one  may  be 
missed  from  the  heavenly  circle.  May  you  be  true 
and  faithful  in  the  family  on  eakth,  that  you  may 
at  length  enjoy  that  blessing  which  beggars  language 
to  describe,  — the  whole  family  m heaven. 

“ Wlien  shall  we  meet  again  ? 

Meet  ne’er  to  sever. 


THE  WHOLE  FAMILY  IN  HEAVEN. 


399 


When  will  peace  wreathe  her  chain 
Round  us  forever  ? 

Our  hearts  will  ne’er  repose 
Safe  from  each  blast  that  blows 
In  this  dark  vale  of  woes,  — 

Never,  — no,  never!  * 

“ When  shall  love  freely  flow. 

Pure  as  Life’s  river  ? 

When  shall  sweet  friendship  glow. 
Changeless  forever  ? 

Where  joys  celestial  thrill, 

Where  bliss  each  heart  shall  fill, 
And  fears  of  parting  chill,  — 
Never, — no,  never! 

“ Up  to  that  world  of  light. 

Take  us,  dear  Saviour; 

May  we  all  there  unite. 

Happy,  forever ; 

Where  kindred  spirits  dwell, 

There  may  our  music  swell. 

And  time  our  joys  dispel,  — 

Never, — no,  never ! 

“ Soon  shall  we  meet  again,  — 

ISIeet  ne’er  to  sever  ; 

Soon  will  peace  wreathe  her  chain 
Round  us  forever ; 

Our  hearts  will  then  repose 
Secure  from  -worldly  woes ; 

Our  songs  of  praise  shall  close, — 
Never,  — no,  never ! ” 


